I have had enough late pregnancy joy, so please forgive a brief (or not so brief) vent. . .
I spill every liquid within a three foot radius of myself. Grace is very sympathetic and says, "It's okay," which makes me glad that I have said that to her when she spilled in the past.
I am doing lots of other clumsy things, too, but I can't even rant about them because my memory is broken and now I sit to blither and blather about them they won't come. I washed my hair twice on Saturday. Not because it was dirty, but because I forgot that I had already washed it! I figured out that it was the second round when the shampoo foamed up ridiculously fast.
Poor Alex thinks I am not listening to him sometimes because it takes me so long to think of the word I am trying to say.
I left my beloved rotary cutter somewhere last week, and it has yet to return unto me. My rotary cutter just seems to be the very secret to my contented housewifeliness, and it is so absolutely horrible to not know precisely where it is.
I said I wasn't going to plant a garden. Then I went to Mike and Irene's Greenhouse to shoot pictures of these fabulous roses, and I thought, Oh, I'll just get a few tomato plants while I'm here. So I planted them, and they just looked so lonely. So I planted watermelon, strawberries, peppers, and okra. Just so the stupid tomatoes wouldn't be lonely. Maybe my brain in general is broken, not just my memory. Don't ask me what was wrong with my thinking, because I really don't know.
On a happy note, Miss Grace has given me the gift of taking a three-hour nap on my birthday. Sleep cannot be overrated at this stage of pregnancy.