Blah-gging

I haven't been feeling very well for the past couple days. I can't put my finger on what it is, exactly (except for, oh, this baby that seems like he should have been here two months ago). Could it be the incessant heartburn? The pounding headache? The children who act as if I've been feeding them crack-laced Kool-Aid? The husband who has a whopping three days off this entire month? Or the clutter that's piling up around me - which I ohhhh so do not feel like hobbling around on my swollen feet to tackle, but have no choice but to take care of myself? (Re-read previous sentence if you're thinking, "Where's Curtis in all this?)

I'm not exactly spry, y'know.

Anyway, since I feel so uninspired today, I'm giving my brain a break from my usual semi-coherent blathering posting style and replacing it with a few down and (really, really) dirty confessions.

- My legs (to say nothing of, um, other places) are in dire need of a shave. Unfortunate, since I can't really reach them.

- I have managed to almost-singlehandedly consume a batch of homemade frosting in three days.

- (With some cake.)

- Said frosting is my second batch in, like, two weeks. The first one, I also ate.

-(By myself.)

- Almost every piece of my/my husband's/my children's clothing is dirty right now. And laying in a menacing heap on the laundry room floor, because it's such a daunting task I don't even want to deal with it.

- The same can be said for the dishes that are piling up in my kitchen sink. It all started with two pieces of stoneware that have to be washed by hand (damn you, non-dishwasher-safe pieces of crap). Now they've been joined by, like, everything else in my kitchen. All I have to do is unload the clean stuff in my dishwasher, reload it with the dirty stuff, and then hand-wash the rest ... but I seriously. Don't. Want. To do it.

- Because then there's the counter underneath to wipe. And the sink. And blahhhhh.

- It's after noon and I'm still wearing a nightgown.

- Said nightgown is ... prepare to laugh ... a red nylon hand-me-down from my mom. FROM THE EIGHTIES. In fact, the thing is soooo old that I remember using it to play dress-up as a child. But it's the only thing that fits my freak-of-nature pregnant belly. Even if it does make me look like a damn apple.

- I don't plan on taking it off any time soon. If at all.

- I am totally ignoring my kids to write this post, even though I hear something in Colin's room that sounds suspiciously like a pen or something similar scratching on his wall. I just have zero motivation to heave my big and uncomfortable self up out' this chair and waddle in there. Especially considering what I might find when I do. *sigh*

- I just heard, "STOP, Cameron!" followed by an indignant wail. Ugh. Time to get to heaving.