Adam is having issues with the whole “my child” thing. Apparently he thinks I should be referring to it as “our child.” And yet, when I’m not feeling well, and he says, “I’m sorry,” he isn’t fond of the answer, “You damn well should be sorry, because this whole thing is your fault because you were the jerk who injected me with this parasitic creature that is sucking the very lifeblood from me!” In those moments, he seems to be willing to distance himself from the whole thing. Well, until he can take over the headaches, the queasiness, the constant sleepiness, and the ever-present bloating and aches, then it’s going to be my child.
Where to Find Me
Where to Find Me
