I would have posted today, but I drove Geekster to a conference downtown.
Then I came home and cleaned.
And cleaned.
And cleaned.
Did I mention I cleaned?
I also made lunch and dinner in there somewhere and watched true crime documentaries on A&E while folding laundry.
I dusted every surface in my bedroom.
You can actually see the floow now in InUtero Boy's future room (which he won't use for a good while anyway because he'll be cosleeping with us, but it's a good place to store toys and clothes and lousy breastpads that don't work well that you intend to give away to someone else).
I would have posted this evening, but I had to pick up Geekster from his conference at 7pm, drive everyone home and then hit my weekly 12 step meeting while in a very pissy mood.
I would have posted this evening, but instead I listened to a really great speaker at said meeting who reminded me that sobriety is only the first step in a very long journey. That I need to to focus on other issues, too. Like my persistent anxiety problem that I'd like to stuff in the back of InUtero Boy's future closet along with the other crap and forget about. I like how I always learn something new from everyone even at fifteen years sober. Either I'm really stupid or there are many more smart people in the world than I thought there were.
So I'm posting now. I'm feeling a little more positive. This is a major feat, considering I cleaned all day (did I mention I cleaned?) and looked after one bored and one sick child and acted like a taxi driver without any of the monetary perks. Oh, and I'm pregnant and HUGE. And easily thrown into grumpy mode. I don't think I mentioned that this post.
So I think I'm going to go have a bath now and read Interview With the Vampire to take my mind off my non-existant troubles. Louis has had a much harder life than I since becoming a vampire and Lestat is a much bigger jerk than I could ever be with bigger issues than I'll ever know. Claudia is way cuter than me, but she'll never have boobs because she was made undead at the age of 5. She also gets set on fire or something later, if I recall. I have boobs (albeit rather floppy, sore ones) and the closest I've come recently to being set on fire is when I burned off half my armhair and singed my eyelashes while attempting to light the bbq. At least I didn't have to pluck for a couple of weeks.
Eat your heart out, Claudia.
Then I came home and cleaned.
And cleaned.
And cleaned.
Did I mention I cleaned?
I also made lunch and dinner in there somewhere and watched true crime documentaries on A&E while folding laundry.
I dusted every surface in my bedroom.
You can actually see the floow now in InUtero Boy's future room (which he won't use for a good while anyway because he'll be cosleeping with us, but it's a good place to store toys and clothes and lousy breastpads that don't work well that you intend to give away to someone else).
I would have posted this evening, but I had to pick up Geekster from his conference at 7pm, drive everyone home and then hit my weekly 12 step meeting while in a very pissy mood.
I would have posted this evening, but instead I listened to a really great speaker at said meeting who reminded me that sobriety is only the first step in a very long journey. That I need to to focus on other issues, too. Like my persistent anxiety problem that I'd like to stuff in the back of InUtero Boy's future closet along with the other crap and forget about. I like how I always learn something new from everyone even at fifteen years sober. Either I'm really stupid or there are many more smart people in the world than I thought there were.
So I'm posting now. I'm feeling a little more positive. This is a major feat, considering I cleaned all day (did I mention I cleaned?) and looked after one bored and one sick child and acted like a taxi driver without any of the monetary perks. Oh, and I'm pregnant and HUGE. And easily thrown into grumpy mode. I don't think I mentioned that this post.
So I think I'm going to go have a bath now and read Interview With the Vampire to take my mind off my non-existant troubles. Louis has had a much harder life than I since becoming a vampire and Lestat is a much bigger jerk than I could ever be with bigger issues than I'll ever know. Claudia is way cuter than me, but she'll never have boobs because she was made undead at the age of 5. She also gets set on fire or something later, if I recall. I have boobs (albeit rather floppy, sore ones) and the closest I've come recently to being set on fire is when I burned off half my armhair and singed my eyelashes while attempting to light the bbq. At least I didn't have to pluck for a couple of weeks.
Eat your heart out, Claudia.