I just wrote a loooooong angsty post about WORK and what kinds of work exist and which kinds of work are worthier than others and OMG MY FREELANCE PROJECT IS STILL HANGING BY A STRING CAN WE CUT IT ALREADY and then- yeah. Delete! Who cares! Not me! Ha! Am carefree and easy going!
It's Wednesday. It should be an easy-ish day. Phillip works from home most Wednesdays which means I will do the grocery shopping this morning so HE can haul everything up the stairs. And then his mom and dad are dropping by sometime tonight (they have been going through Jack Withdrawal since we have been Crazy Busy on the weekends and haven't visited, BAD KIDS) so Phillip and I can leave the boy at home and go out to dinner. Last night Phillip asked me where I wanted to go to dinner, expecting my standard, "Oh, I don't know, what do you think", but I immediately said, "SALVATORE'S" because I have been dreaming about tortellini alla panna. Which is the kind of thing I am not going to let myself eat after I have the baby SO I BETTER EAT IT NOW, RIGHT?
And Phillip knows not to mess with me when I have an Immediate Answer. Mmm, pasta drenched in cream sauce. I'm already drooling.
Well! Turns out I have nothing to report now that I've deleted the Post of Angst and am sitting here clicking 'refresh' on my feed reader.
How about a list of people/things with whom I am Taking Issue?
NBC: What is UP with the Olympic Coverage?! Do not tempt me all day long with your promises of
women's girls' gymnastics when you are actually not planning to SHOW girls' gymnastics until ELEVEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT. Hello, I am grossly pregnant and extremely uncomfortable. Eleven is TOO LATE, NBC, TOO LATE. And because I couldn't help myself I was continually flipping to the Canadian channel to see what was going on and by that time I KNEW WHO WON WHAT and that was the end of you, NBC. I turned off the television and dreamed I was wearing one of those NASA-designed swimsuits and sleeping in a bathtub. Which? WAY more comfortable than my bed.
Parents at the Wading Pool: WHERE ARE YOU? More to the point, where are you when your six-year-old kid waltzes up to my fifteen-month-old and me and nonchalantly attempts to make off with our watering can? THAT I AM HOLDING? I don't get this, I really don't. It's one thing to be sharing toys with the people sitting next to you, or letting another fifteen-month-old take the ball your own fifteen-month-old is not interested in and retrieving it later. But taking toys out of a baby's HAND? And not letting go when the baby's mother is saying, "Let the BABY play with his toy!" ARGH. Also! The Most Neglectful Parent award goes to the man who was hanging out playing with his iPhone and only looking up every ten minutes or so to note where his TINY KID was in the GIANT HUGE VERY LARGE wading pool.
People Who Do Not Leave Enough Room For Me To Drive Out Of My Driveway When They Park On The Street: 'Nuff said.
My Tomato Plants: Are you ever going to ripen? Huh? This is getting ridiculous. My lettuce is dying while we wait for you to turn red. And yes, I sit over there and plot how to rip all of you out in the fall and build myself a little garden box to maximize sun exposure and neaten up my yard, but WHATEVER, you should be doing your job right NOW. Don't even bother blaming it on the Mysterious Lack of Summer we had going on a month or two ago- everybody ELSE'S tomatoes are turning red. GET A MOVE ON.
The Ancient Decrepit Scale at my Doctor's Office: Even the nurses confess you don't work very well and I suppose that should make me feel a little better, but it doesn't. I am on track to gain just as much weight as I did with Jack, although YOU make me feel like I'll be LUCKY if that's all I gain! I was so depressed I had to go home and make cookies. And when Phillip asked me if he could take some to work I looked at him like, "You must be joking." Even though I ALWAYS give him cookies to take to work. I BLAME YOU, ANCIENT DECREPIT SCALE.
People Who Want Their Breakfast RIGHT THIS SECOND: Fine! I'll POST this sorry excuse of an entry and get you your Cheerios STAT!