Thursday, April 16, 2009
She is big enough now that I can usually find her bum and give it a little spank. Her knees and elbows are easy to identify, but she moves away the minute I start poking back, trying to feel her, trying to get my hands on her. It is so thrilling when her toes tickle my ribs, and I have no qualms about annoying the crap out of her by poke poke poking back. Oh hi baby!
The house is still a wreck, in a frantic uprooted way. Yesterday I tore the couches apart, scrubbed them with soapy water and shop-vacced them dry. The seat covers and cushions are drying in the basement. This must be nesting: furniture in various stages of rearrangement, cleaning wands and squeegees and mop heads... with the cute little robot vacuum beeping Roomba I can clean floors on both levels of the house at the same time with laundry cycling full time in the basement. It's the closest I can get to drunk. With joy.
I dream about well arranged closets; I can see them in my head. I can inventory the boxes I haven't unpacked since we moved, identify the things I don't need and schedule their disposal without even waking up! Nesting is the best thing that ever happened to me.
Seriously, I am totally at peace scrubbing my fridge.
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