I wore my first pair of maternity pants today. The only dress pants I have that still fit me are black. I wear them constantly. Over the weekend a friend dropped off a bunch of maternity clothes for me to go thru. I was afraid there would be a sack of disney characters and matronly floral numbers. To my astonishment the sacks
were loaded with nice, modern assortments of cute jeans, khaki's,capri's along with billowy peasant tops and dress shirts. She also threw in a "wet wipe warmer"..say that ten times fast. I wasn't even sure what that was for until she explained that warm wet wipes are supposed to keep little boys from peeing on you. Two important points to note, #1. I don't know the gender of our baby yet. #2. She has a little boy and is giving me the thing because it didn't work. So, maybe my bundle will just have the luxury of a warm wipe whether it serves any other purpose or not.
Anyway, I was so excited this morning because I didn't have to wear black pants. I pulled out a pair of pinstriped dress pants and paired them with a chocolate turtleneck and long sweater coat. I've been looking pretty goth for the past several weeks wearing my only black pants all the time. And I'm too lazy to wear my contacts so I wear my black frames all the time...I do look pretty artsy...but it was nice to have a break from black.
In other news...I have a new manager at work. She rode with me on sales calls the other day and called me "Girlybop" all day. She also smiled and confided that she was a "cool manager" and I could "be real with her." Red flags. Nothing but red flags to me. To me that says," I will use anything you say against you if I have to and I am trying to make you think I'm your friend." She also thought I was 25. Ha ha! She about fell out of my car when I told her I was 33...but continued to call me girlybop anyway. Then she called me Friday evening at 6:30 to rehash our lunch at a doctors office and she wanted to hear about the rest of my day. I was trying to go to dinner with my sister-in-law and never would have answered the phone if I'd known it was her. Oh, apparently I haven't checked my voicemail since Thrusday afternoon so I checked it this morning (monday) and had 30 new messages from her. Not. Even. Kidding. In the great words of the Beatles, Help!
*intermission while I take long, cleansing breaths*
My living room carpet looks as if the area rug pooped on it. There are small balls of reddish brown fiber tumbleweeds defecting across my beige carpet. Boo has not vacuumed in about a week and that is his job. There are shoes and books cluttering the rest of the living room...it's kind of starting to feel like an armpit in here.
I'm trying to keep my head above water in the house cleaning department right now. Tell me I'm not alone. If you are a domestic diva, shut up. I don't want to hear about your dusting dynamics and toilet cleaning magic. What's that? You say you fold your laundry immediately after it comes out of the dryer...I don't believe you. And I certainly don't want to hear about your lemony freshness. So, there.