Word of the Day: tamale My twenty-first birthday was so so lame. I went to work. I picked up Patrick. I got a huge headache. I took three Tylenol PM's [because I was too weak from the headache to open the new Tylenol bottle] and went to sleep at nine-thirty. Work hasn't changed. Our scores are still crappy, the managers still don't do a lot of work, Jeff still relies mainly on me, drama is still all over the place. Though one thing has changed--Ashley will no longer be staying later than three o'clock to do favors for Jeff. He tried that yesterday right when I was telling everyone goodbye, and I told him negatory. I brought Patrick to the doctor on Tuesday morning. He now weighs ten pounds eleven ounces and is twenty-two inches long. He's smiling a lot more and has more steady sleep/wake and eating patterns. He's too freakin cute. Man, I'm not pregnant anymore, but I still can't type and my attention span's still short and sporadic.