Naughty People

1) Me--for not blogging two days in a row. I have no excuse other than fatigue--both mental and physical. Just so you know, we have been able to resolve the whole identity theft issue with the bank. Things are still going to be a little extra tight for us until next paycheck...But I'm trying to focus more on the unexpected blessing rather than the anxiety that this whole experience brought. (During the myriad phone calls, we discovered that we were able to consolidate our bank loans and lower our monthly expenses by $54. Not too shabby, says I! It'll be official when we go in to sign some papers tomorrow. Yay!)

Also, I've been busy sewing up bedding for little miss' room when she arrives. I finished her crib's dust ruffle, and am halfway done with her matching bumper pads...I still really want to make a light quilt or blanket for the spring/summer. I'm thinking of doing the "1600 Jelly Roll" quilt--but that would require a jelly roll--Hmm. Oh well, I'll put it on my "someday when we have a little extra money" list of projects. :-)

2) My Coworkers--today one of the receptionists (who is also pregnant) offered me a popsicle from her stash. Our air conditioning up in the front of the building hasn't been working properly for nearly a month. It seems to be stuck between 78-82 degrees Fahrenheit. All. The. Time. I have noticed that my temperature runs higher anyway when I'm pregnant, so I've been dying during my long shifts and can't wait to come home and take a cool shower...Anyway, I just want you to understand why the popsicle was such an awesome gesture on her part. And it wasn't just any popsicle. It was a Big Stick.

But it turns out you can't eat a Big Stick in a health care facility when you're seven months along without everyone making naughty comments...I almost had to lock myself in the bathroom because people kept making me laugh. My favorite was the nurse who starting quoting Patch Adams saying, "Let's go check out the maternity ward, because you know those girls put out!"

3) Patrick--the other day he started to attach the knobs to our kitchen drawers (after about a year of waiting for who knows what). I don't know about you, but if I knew I was going to drill a hole into a drawer filled with eating and cooking utensils, I would empty out the drawer first. Patrick is not like me in this respect.

He pushed stuff to the back of the drawer so he'd have more working room and kept on going. When I saw what he was doing I was both excited and anxious--I really want to have drawer pulls, but I had just spent a lot of time getting the upstairs deep cleaned and put together the day before--so I asked him to be sure to vacuum up the little sawdust piles he was leaving in the bottom of the drawers. (At this point I am going to assume that he was so in the zone that he wasn't thinking...because it's the only way I can stop myself from planning to cause him some kind of elaborate physical harm.) He just nodded and then blew on the pile of sawdust, scattering it all over the clean previously clean cutlery.

I believe my next words were, "Are you kidding me?! We eat with those!" He then made some unwise comment about how a little speck of wood wouldn't kill you if you ingested it, and I got riled up and started to accuse him of calling me a bad cook. (Apparently he thinks my meals are so tasteless, it wouldn't matter if sawdust was mixed in, because he wouldn't be able to tell the difference!) Needless to say, the rest of the interaction did not go well. I can't remember everything I said, but I'm sure it's not something to be proud of. Still, I dare anyone to tell me that I was unprovoked...

(Disclaimer: I love my husband very much and I think the world of him. But there are times when I don't understand him. And those are the times I try not to kill him...even when the urge to poison his food with sawdust is very strong...)