My house is really tidy. Don’t all fall off your chairs in shock though, I’m sure it’s all part of being very pregnant.
Yesterday I decluttered downstairs, including cupboards that haven’t been opened for three years, the kitchen and my desk. I was ruthless. I’ll probably regret this when I can’t find some VITAL piece of paperwork that looked like junk mail.
This morning I cleared out the airing cupboard and discovered that we own eight different duvet sets in varying sizes, three tablecloths and LOADS of flat sheets. I have never used a flat sheet in my life so I have no idea where they came from, but they will be useful for giving birth on so that was a good job well done. I wondered why the cupboard was so full, I could have sworn it only contained about three towels and a spare pillow.
So, the house is sparkling and spotless, the Chums are at the beach with Grandma and Grandad and my mindee is sleeping for what will probably be another hour. Time to lie on the sofa and eat biscuits, I think.
As an aside, baby Michael Flatley (now THERE’S a scary mental picture <shudder>) is Riverdancing away like a mad thing lately. My abdomen is like something out of a horror film, so much so that one of the school mums recoiled in revulsion at a party on Sunday and exclaimed, ‘oh my GOD it’s moving!’. Er, yes, it does that.
It’s all very lovely and comforting to feel him flexing away in there but it is very discombobulating when I’m trying to speak or read or concentrate and he batters me from the inside. Oof.