Crazy awesome.

James Brown was the hardest working man in show business.

But, Andy is the hardest working man in Brittany business.

Which is totally way harder and weirder than show business.

I am still nursing.

Well, obviously, the baby.  Not sure why I felt the need to clarify that.

I am not an RN and I feel weird letting other people near my nipples now that they look like fake rubber vomit.

But, on account of my nursing, my ability to control my anxiety disorder is out the door.

I can take Zoloft, but the low dose doesn’t help me and the high dose makes me feel drunk.

Like, show your pussy, make out with a mime, who’s actually not a mime at all, but rather the deaf guy in charge of handing out flyers outside the YMCA, drunk.

So, I go it alone.

Well, kinda alone.

I call Andy at work every thirty minutes or so, so he can reassure me I am too young to have a heart attack, or that disease where your skin turns into tree bark isn’t as common as they make it seem on TLC.

He lays in bed with me at night, talking to me about random things when I am afraid to go to sleep because I worry I won’t wake up, and taps his fingers along my back to remind me that I’m still there.

He uses a sliding scale to let me know where I am in my thoughts.  Sometimes crazy awesome.  Other times crazy weird.

He tells me my idea to raise shrimp in our pond in genius, and even agrees to be the one to harvest them.  On account of my fear of dead bodies.

He googled throat cancer with me for an hour because it felt weird when I swallowed.

And, he outbid somebody on ebay for a box of pug sized diapers.

Which I think Henry is going to be pretty psyched about once they get here from China.

Andy does a lot to maintain normalcy in our lives.

I adore him for it.

And it pays well…in crazy.

Crazy awesome.