Shot in the leg.

Well, maybe not, but that is what it felt like. I woke up in the middle of the night with what felt like a bullet wound to my leg calf. Turns out it is "just" a Charley Horse. (Incidentally, my ancestors, the Germans, apparently call it something that translates into "muscle hangover." I can assure you there were no muscles being used and certainly nothing that I could associate with a hangover in my system....I'd rather have a regular, old hangover anyday of the week over this.)

Apparently Charley Horses are common during pregnancy. I'm not sure if mine is the result of wearing heels yesterday (I had to spruce myself up a bit for Legally Blonde: The Musical) or because I was dehydrated. What I do know is that I woke up screeching bloody murder, without a clue as to what was going on. Kevin graciously offered in between snores to roll over and try to help get rid of it, but I preferred to lay very, very still until the sharp pains subsided.

Today I've been walking around with a bit of a limp, although I'd like to think it looks like I've got a very cool strut going on. I'm thinking of throwing on some more casual clothes and finding a local gang to join. At least I can tell them that I know what it feels like to get shot in the leg.