So our washing machine is quite small - grrrrrr - but I just stuffed our guestroom duvet (not the cover, the insert) into it for a good scrub before Oma arrives on Saturday. Well, I have washed plenty of blankets in this tiny bucket of a machine & it always goes lopsided & gets clogged but today it looked like the inner machine had detached itself from the outer boxy part (I know my technical terms may be too sophisticated for you) & water was leaking over the top of the inner part onto the floor. I started to cry when I saw all of this because we can't afford a new washing machine & this one weighs too much for me to throw out the window as I felt like doing. Instead I set it to drain the rest of the water & ate my pavlovas. Now it seems okay except that the blanket is only partially washed so will still have detergent throughout it & what appears to be flecks of dirt & lint that must have been hidden away along the edges of the inner workings of the washing machine. I will be rinsing the hell out of this duvet in the backyard with the hose momentarily. Poor Oma doesn't know what luxury awaits her on our side of the planet.
Anyway, that drama aside, all is going okay. Hit the mall for a couple of small errands & have finally officially reached the point where I can't walk very far. Had to take a few breaks to let little contractions pass through my lady parts like the hot fireballs of hell that they are - it's hard to act casual when you're strolling past Country Road, wondering if you should drop in on their sale, & suddenly you have the lovely sensation that someone is trying to pry your vagina open with heavy duty construction equipment. And these aren't even real contractions, people! These are just the random ones that show up when you're walking along minding your own business, just to make sure you're ready for the real thing. I have explained to my body countless times that I have scheduled a c-section so I should be exempt from this horseshit but my body ain't listening.
Whatever. I would like to send a bouquet of flowers to whoever at Erina Fair decided to put about a million comfy couches down the length of the corridor so I could act like I suddenly needed to sit down, have some water & organize my purse. The water prevented me from yelling "YOUCH! MY VAGINA!! M-Y V-A-G-I-N-A!!!" No one appreciates hearing that. And digging through my purse prevented people from seeing the face I'm sure I was making that I'll recreate for you now:
|Something like this. Also, what is my hair doing?|
Okay I'm back to just quickly address those of you who are powers to be in the world of maternity fashion. Anyone? Anyone? Hmmm ... anyway, this is not necessary:
Maybe my pregnancy bosom is all I've got going for me & maybe you're just being thoughtful so I can breastfeed with this shirt once pregnancy is done but there has got to be some discretion. My brain has sadly stopped working & I couldn't manage to get both my full rack & my skeptical face in the picture at the same time so there's actually more cleavage down there. I can't wear this particular shirt out of the house for fear of newborns flinging their tiny selves at my swelling lady lumps. Unless lady lumps means the butt then come up with your own sketchy phrase for boobs & fill in as necessary. Where is the muumuu of yesteryear where a pregnant woman could hide for 9 months of glorious fattening up?? Long story short: cut this shit out, folks.
And a big shout-out to the dude who lives next door. We've been neighbors for about a year & a half & the only time I hear you is when you blow your nose. You make me smile every time but sometimes it terrifies me because I didn't know you were right there, over the fence.
So I've been doing these updates throughout the afternoon but it's now 5pm, Ben & I are home puttering around. Well, he is throwing things off the Lanai onto the Lower Lanai, which is one of my greatest pet peeves but I'm not in the mood to yell so I'm just letting him go with it. I will seethe inwardly, then pick all the crap back up & put it where it belongs after he has gone to bed. That's how I roll when I don't want to fight with a toddler.
I've accomplished next to nothing today. In fact, I took steps backward instead of forward. The blanket from the great washing machine debacle is drying in the background across some chairs so it could stay in the full sun all afternoon - it's still pretty darn waterlogged so I imagine it will be usable sometime next month at this rate. This is where you should imagine me yelling "ACK! ACK! ACK!" like the old Cathy cartoons. I could also use some Cathy-approved chocolate.
Also in my two steps back mode, I changed some things around in Fonzie's corner of our room. Marcel is going to kill me because I undid some of his work & now I'll need his help to finish out my new plan. Chances are he's working late tonight because he's got big work projects due just in time for the new baby to be settling in. Isn't that just how shitty life is? There's a whole freaking year but absolutely everything in our & our family's lives has to fall at the same time. Thank you, life, we really didn't want to have an easy time of it. Please can we have some more?
Okey dokey, I should go clean the kitchen & attempt to sweep the bathroom as I boldly proclaimed I was going to do. Marcel scoffed so now I have to do it. I am unfortunately beyond the stage of being able to get down on my hands & knees to scrub the grout or I'd be doing that too because those tiles are going to do me in one day. I have no tolerance for the bastards.
On that note, I am going because my temper is starting to run short with the boy who can't not throw things. He's moved on to the big rocks that sit throughout the landscaped sections of our yard. If this child does not end up being a baseball player or some other profession that requires throwing, I will feel cheated.