PREPARATION IS FOR SISSIES

No, the nursery isn't done yet. In fact, the only thing "done" about it is it's painted.

Even that needs touched up.

Now that I think about it, though, the blinds are hung as well, which accent nicely off the only piece of furniture in the room that is actually going to remain in the room. Which is her bookshelf. Which also happens to be the only piece of furniture yet purchased for the space.

That isn't to say we don't already have other furniture. Because we do. Kind of. See, we're planning to use an old hand-me-down recliner that was already in Adam's possession as a rocking chair in her room. But right now, it's collecting laundry in our bedroom. And preventing me from opening my closet door all the way.

Oh! I just remembered we also have a lamp! Except I may want a new lamp shade because the one I picked out doesn't quite match the recliner.

Yes, it does so matter.

As for the rest of the room, there is a twin mattress that I want to keep but am unsure where to store. And then there is the other half of the room that is entirely filled with junk. Don't get me started on the junk. Because there is a lot of junk. Junk in the form of hand-me-down baby toys and accessories. And in the form of Adam and my stuff.

We have entirely too much stuff. And about a third of it is occupying a large portion of Baby Punchass' room. I'll be terrified if it turns out to only equal a fourth of the accumulated "stuff". So will the garbage man after mom and dad come down to help clean/organize this weekend. Goodwill may potentially be thrilled, however.

I have to admit I'm a little daunted by the task before us, particularly since we're relying pretty heavily on the generosity of my grandparents to produce the bulk of the furniture we still don't have. Dear Baby Punchass: DO NOT COME EARLY.

NO BUTTS ABOUT IT

"My mom admitted to me today that my dad refers to you as his son-in-law."

"That's okay. I referred to Bean as my sister-in-law at work the weekend she came down."

"Mom said he didn't want that to put any pressure on anyone about anything. It's just the way he feels about you. So I told her you were obviously the favorite."

"What did she say about that?"

"She laughed and said you were in the top three. Then I got her to confess that she thinks you have a cute butt. I'm pretty sure that means I win."

I HAD AN ACCIDENT*

*I've decided I want to rename this post "THE SEXIEST SISTER". The story really just demands it.


If you've known me for any length of time, it shouldn't come as a big surprise that I don't have a very high tolerance for shame.

Unfortunately, I also happen to be almost 7 months pregnant. This means that everything inside my gut is crowded. Excessively crowded. So much so that even the slightest adjustment in her position means I'm generally struggling to inhale fully or skipping off to the bathroom for what typically doesn't equal much relief.

Even more unfortunately, I happen to have one hell of a head cold. A cold that leads to copious sneezing.

You may see where this is headed.

That's right. I sneezed. And because I'm nearly 7 months pregnant, that sneeze had the awful effect of making me pee a little. But apparently not little enough. Because I left a mark ON THE COUCH. And Adam just so happened to be sitting next to me. His initial concern as I jumped up yelling "goddamnit" turned to humor with a touch of slight disgust as he was made privy to my problem. I have to give him credit though. While I was busy changing my pants, he wiped up my spot and kept the mocking to a minimum.

And nothing says Happy Valentine's Day like cleaning up your loved one's piddle.

"LOVE" LETTERS

Dear My Job,
Don't get me wrong. I'm appreciative you exist at all, the economy being what it is. I'm relieved that there isn't any chance you're just going to up and leave me hanging at some point in the near future. Hell, I even like a number of the people I get to see at your place every weekday. I'm not dense. I realize my current situation could be much worse and I sincerely do not wish for that to be the case.

However, that being said, I have to admit that I really, really hate you.

Please, don't take offense. It isn't you. Honest. Cross my heart. Scout's honor. It's me (except, you know, all the time when it really and truly is you).

Sincerely,
The Management

SOCKS

"Can you hand me the sock that's stuck in my boot?"

"You were wearing socks?"

"Yeah."

"You were wearing socks."

"IT WAS COLD."

"When did you go out?"

"Yesterday."

"So you're re-wearing socks?"

"So?"

"So, ew."

"You re-wear the socks you use to walk the dog in ALL THE TIME."

"Yeah, but those are thermal socks. Those are special."

"And have you even washed the outfit you wear to walk the dog ONCE since you've taken over dog-walking duties?"

"Yes."

"More than once?"

"No."

"THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT."

EXCUSES

I took a mental health day from work today. Unfortunately I made this decision after ATTEMPTING to make it to work, seeing that the direction I needed to go on the highway was wall-to-wall traffic, attempting to turn around and go home only to have to repeatedly pull into driveways to turn around because all left turns anywhere I went seemed to be illegal, and then sliding into some guy's tail end as I pulled off an exit.

Yeah.

He was greeted by a crying, blubbering mess and decided that it wasn't worth it since no harm, no foul (There was no damage to the back of his truck and I was such a mess I didn't even bother to look at the front of my car, and in fact, hours later, still haven't.) and let it go at an apology.

Which is a pretty good analogy for how I've been feeling recently. And also why I haven't been writing.

I'm stressed. I'm overwhelmed. I haven't felt like I've gotten a reprieve from any of it. So the stress just builds and builds until something little and insignificant, something that doesn't really cause any damage, happens and I'm a blubbering mess. All of which makes it very difficult to be funny and entertaining. And to top it off, I'm beginning to feel like what I have to say about me doesn't really matter to people anymore. I'm beginning to feel like my worth is getting wrapped up in how Baby Punchass is doing, and she isn't even here yet.

But that doesn't make that statement any less selfish, so just add another dose of guilt to what I'm already feeling.

It's hard to even feel like writing anything, let alone trying to be funny and entertaining when I'm feeling like this. And I don't know how to make it stop.