Oh man

Would you look at this?

Shit.

Nothing written here since April. I'm sorry, imaginary baby. It's not that you haven't been on my mind, because you have. I've just been really busy, you know? I know. That's not your problem. Fortunately, I console myself that lack of existence also suggests an independence of time. And so April is the same as July is the same as tomorrow. Feel free to disabuse me of this assumption, should you ever come into being.

Not much has changed since last we spoke. I've had some busy work time, with another book coming out, and then another on the horizon, and yet another one due in a mere forty days. A lot can happen in forty days, as you may one day discover. Just think. In forty days you yourself could venture from hypothetical to possible. Not quite actual. Just short of actual. But certainly possible. I guess we'll see.

You should know that I've stopped with the plastic sticks. I'm not convinced they're the best approach. According to the doctor who is treating my brain tumor, by the time the lines or the crosshatches or the smiley faces or whatever appear, it's actually a day or two past prime exposure time. So what's the point, then? Just another case of the commodification of women's bodies, if you ask me, which you didn't. Trust me, though, that's a thing. One hopes it might be less of a thing, when you roll around, but I don't have high hopes. Suffice it to say. No more plastic sticks.

Which is not to say that I'm giving up, necessarily. I'm taking the brain meds and everything. I'm just endeavoring not to worry about it as much.

Actually, I'm sort of lying. L thinks we're giving up.

Are we giving up? Am I?

Are you?

The world has enough people, it could be argued. And some of them need homes. In fact, one of those people has been living in my house over the past year - your half uncle (is that even a thing?). He's nineteen. I don't really need to go into that with you right now, but let's just say, it's tiring. Teenagers, man. They're a lot of work. This is why you, you lucky duck, will be sent to your father's boarding school for high school. Trust me, it's a good idea. You'll thank me when the time comes.

If the time comes.