Okay, make that third-laziest. Though shouldn't someone have made that bed, despite her delicate condition? FINE: fourth-laziest. Indeed, we are poor role models for children, even those of the fuzzy variety. I bet Speck will just lie around doing absolutely nothing constructive for months after his arrival. Maybe years.
In other news, I'm quite proud of myself for several technological advances that I've made this week:
- creating the whole blog thing (arduous, I know, what with the whole guide-you-through-the-necessary-steps nature of Blogger);
- using the memory thing from the digital camera thing to upload pics to computer thing (much more truly arduous, what with Rob mocking my ineptitude);
- posting an item for sale on eBay (ditto the comments in the blog parentheses).
On a side note, can anyone under the age of late-twenty-something (or older?) truly understand a "ditto"? Each time I hear it, I think of those warm, damp purply-blue-inked copies fresh from the mimeograph machine in fourth grade. Oh, and the odeur! Sometimes I miss elementary school. Ah, the wisdom of my advancing years.
Otherwise, beyond the work for which I actually get compensated, minor pregnancy stuff continues. Nighttime wakenings. Bizarre dreams. Leg cramps. Uncontrollable hunger, mostly for sweets and fruits and grains but not for veggies. Lots of potty breaks. Steady weight gain. Puffy ankles. Wedding band causing rash and weird mark. Joy. I fear the day, twentyish weeks or so hence, when I read this and roll my eyes at my own whining.
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