Right, you ****er, I'm going to do the washing up

[susie_flo]

Grrrr morning, fiends.  
 
I appear to have woken up a cross between Withnail and Father Jack undergoing a period of enforced abstinence.  Am certainly managing to be "tired and emotional" without the aid of booze.  I've run out of domestic appliances to swear at but, having just stubbed my toe twice on random clutter that is NOT WHERE IT  SHOULD BE I doubt the air is about to get any less blue around here.  Thank god for my heart-melting fluffbags keeping me sane. 

  
I'm only fecking about on here while I drink emergency coffee before getting back to another day of hard labour & DIY.  Unfortunately it's the sort of work that creates utter chaos, and yet nobody in their right mind is likely to notice what has changed afterwards (e.g. light switches moved to where they should be, walls/ceilings replastered, storage reorganised and stuff dumped out of the loft to make room for other stuff) but there is no way any of it would get done after Rup turns up, so it had to be now or never. 
 
Tomorrow I shall at least get to flop around at Rosa's garden party, which will be a welcome break.  I do hope the weather plays ball.  Then Sat will be back to the grind before another guest arrives...  (I fear he might have nowhere to sleep at this rate)

  

Yesterday my bump got prodded by a very stern midwife (she was a bit like that famous dog-training lady from the '70s whose name escapes me).  After giving me a strict lecture about breast-feeding, she ascertained that Ruprecht appears to be behaving himself with a reasonable heartbeat and has shifted into head-down position ready for later...   (which incidentally means that he NEVER stops pressing on my bladder). 

   

On American TV shows, preg women always seem to get endless ultrasound scans but with the NHS you just get prodded in the belly from 20-weeks onwards, so I'm starting to find myself quite curious about what he's going to look like... 

 

Well I have now wasted huge amounts of time so I'd better get on.  I hope you saner peeps all have lovely bank hols planned! 
 
 

Comments

[sarah-mum.livejournal.com]

Barbera Woodhouse

[the-meanest-cat.livejournal.com]

That's the one! (I felt that she might order me to "sit" at any time)

[ms-siobhan.livejournal.com]

She might insist on putting you on a choke chain though ;-)

[steer.livejournal.com]

Or if she thought you were a horse then blowing up your nose. (In a misguided attempt to be "cute" a friend of mine tried to use that as a pulling technique in a nightclub. The victim is traumatised to this day, 20 years later).

[ms-siobhan.livejournal.com]

I'm not surprised - that sounds horrible.

[chiller.livejournal.com]

si-T! *does the hand thing*