A Confession

First let me come clean.  I'm pregnant.

Now, let the next thirty-one weeks commence where I talk of nothing else except my growing belly, appetite and need for Cheetos.  Not really, but I will say this; I'm tired.  So tired that normal everyday tasks that should only take me a few minutes suddenly sit around, unfinished, for days at a time.  Examples?  The dishwasher, the dirty dishes, groceries (the non-perishable ones, duh), folding the laundry, making the bed.  I mean, there are much better things to do, like, stuff handfuls of popcorn in my mouth while watching all the episodes of Angel, in order.  Don't judge me, I am returning to school in a few weeks; maybe this is just me trying desperately to channel myself as a Freshman in college?  Who the heck knows.  What I do know that my "golden time," or nap time as it is commonly called, was once used to clean, cook, tidy up, rest and blog.  Well, you know how much blogging I've done of late; and I like to do that, can you imagine how much of the other has been done?

One thing I can say is, Thank God for having our house on the market.  As much of a pain in the ass it has been to keep this place show worthy almost everyday, at least I have a reason that I can't ignore to keep it that way.  Except for the groceries, or the dishes.  Those get done at the last minute, as I'm spraying Oust in the air to hurriedly try and cover up the smell of the frozen pizza I made for dinner last night.  Because if I'm not cleaning, I'm sure as hell not cooking either.