No Kvetching--something NEW!

Yeah...so last week was maybe not such a good one...but this week is shaping up to be FANTASTIC.

Why? You ask. It's Monday after all.

Well, to start off with, these fine people had their baby girl early this morning and the labor was fast--unpleasant, but FAST. And we got to go over first thing this morning and meet her--y'all she is Beautiful! And if we've waited and waited for little Miss Olivia to make her appearance, you should have seen her parents! Dave is adorably ecstatic and Sarah is radiant and beautiful and I really hope that I look half that good after giving birth! We're so blessed to have such wonderful friends in our life.

And well, maybe it was all the new baby-ness in the room but I've just melted into a warm puddle of goo with the Husband. I know that I do my fair share of whining--especially about work, and that's not likely to change any time soon--but if I do, it's only because things are so good with the Husband. I don't have much at all to complain about with him and what I do have is really negligible. He's absolutely wonderful. And no, he's not perfect, but he's perfect for me. He's a good man, intelligent, kind, supportive and so so excited to meet our boy that I couldn't ask for a better partner to go through this whole experience with.

Also, it's raining, and I love rain.

And my boss got back together with her certain someone over the weekend so she's in a really good mood.

I didn't sleep much last night, but I did get to have chocolate ice cream at my parent's house. And a long chat with my Grandma. And I spent Saturday with my sister and it's just always nice to know that if Bad things happen, your family will look out for you.

So, yes, I'm at work and it's mindless and irritating, but today? Today life is really good.

I am NOT your party planner

Here's the thing: I don't GO to parties. Generally. Occasionally, for those individuals of whom I am rather fond, I will attend small gatherings, bridal showers, baby showers, the very occasional wedding reception. I don't enjoy parties. I get all nervous and stressed out just thinking about all of those people and the random seating and the food--oh dear, food that we don't know where it's been prepared or by whom! Hence, I do not go to parties. I also do not throw parties.

This is the final post in protest of how everyone I work for FORGOT that it was Administrative Professionals WEEK.

Today is the informal Hooray-You're-Almost-Done-Graduates! party. Most of them have to present their final projects and they all talk about them and then they stand around and eat pizza and schmooze for an hour or more. I got roped in to this because today is also my supervisor's birthday--so she, wisely, took the day off.

I met several times with the Professional (and I use this term loosely) person in charge of the whole mess and he assured me that everything (EVERYTHING) was taken care of, except for the food. So, yesterday, I ordered the catering and (foolishly) trusted him that everything else was set up.

This morning arrives and I head down there and there is NOTHING. No easels for posters, no chairs, no tables, no table cloths, NOTHING. So I ask the aforementioned "Professional" person if he had submitted the request for facilities to set up all of this stuff. His reply, "Well, yeah, I think so, but can you just call them?"

Sure. It's the day OF, I'm nearly 8 months pregnant and I have no assistance to set up for this ridiculous party, but sure. I can call them. So I call them and the chairs, table cloths and easels are delivered--tables were scrounged, because I am an excellent scrounger. In a little more than an hour, the tables were clothed and set up with plates, napkins and plastic ware. The chairs were set out and the easels set up. Now we wait for the food.

In the meantime, will someone please explain to me HOW THIS CAME TO BE MY RESPONSIBILITY?!? First of all--this crap isn't even MY JOB! Second of all--I'm technically not supposed to have ANYTHING to do with ANY of THIS because the Husband is in this program and my boss's boss says that it LOOKS bad for me to be too heavily involved with some of these Professional Types. And finally, I am AWFUL at parties--the setting up, the planning, the BEING there--I'm AWFUL. Not my job!!! I work very hard in my cubical, please to leave me alone to do my WORK. But please also not to ask me to do PARTIES.

Administrative Assistants--they are your BRAIN

So, previously, on Burnstopia...the Wife was bitching about how nobody did anything for her for Administrative Professionals Day--the day of joy and relief from the monotony of her daily existence (mostly because she forgets all about it until someone does something for her!).

Today, the Wife came in to work. Yesterday she had been across campus to a media library to pick up a film for a professional type to show in class. Now, this professional type is not new to this blog. Stories have been told of her before. I shall leave it to the reader to search the archives and guess which ones.

This particular professional type is...well, we'll be nice today and say she's a bit batty. I've performed a number of demeaning tasks for her including cleaning her new office, moving her old office and being poked in the HEAD by her while I searched for maps on google that she could use in a powerpoint presentation.

As mentioned above, today the Wife came to work, and the professional type came, wringing her hands, to the Wife's desk. She had LOST the video. From 1:00pm yesterday to 9:00am this morning (she had to show it at 10:00am) she had LOST it. She wanted me to find it. ME. I did not lose the video. But it became my job to find it. So the Wife dutifully trots down to her office and at a quick glance ascertains that it is not THERE. The Wife looks at the professional type and says calmly, "Where did you go after you left my desk?" The professional type, fingers to her forehead (as if she could PRY the information out of her fogged mind) says, "Well...I went...to [another professional type]'s office...and the filing cabinet...the [specific place on campus]...and then home...oh! what if I left it in my CAR?" So, I trot all the way back down the big long hallway to the professional type's office and then to the filing cabinet where...

TA DA! The video is sitting right there. So I pick it up and trot back down the big long hallway back to her office and set it down on her desk while she laughs it off and I? I return to my desk.

SERENITY NOW!!!

I think the whole point of celebrating Administrative Professionals Day is the acknowledgment, once a year, that Admins are the BRAINS behind the entire operation. We keep up calenders, schedule meetings, play inter-office politics, keep up with various work related deadlines, we schedule conference calls, create budgets, plan parties, we order catering, set up and take down for events, (and in my case) help put together grants, edit journal submissions and quite often, listen to what's going on in personal lives. We're the ones who know all the gossip, who can't work with whom, what each of the professional types is currently working on and what they'd rather be working on...who has familial obligations and who is having problems. We're the ones who know how the copy machine works, and the fax machine, we replace the toner cartridges and we know where the damn paper is kept in order to restock printers and copiers. Our jobs are often mindless and very often bereft of respect or gratitude.

See? I knew if you could just see if from my perspective you'd agree that a pound of Godiva chocolates once a year isn't too much to ask.

And as much as I mock them, I really do work with some lovely people who, for the most part, are enjoyable. At the very least they're entertaining, and on those occasions when they recall that I am, in fact, very well educated and fairly intelligent, they can be quiet interesting.

Still. ONCE A YEAR!!!

What a Difference a Year Makes

Ok.

So, I will admit it--I didn't even know there was an Administrative Professionals Day until this day last year. When I received: 1 pound of Godiva dark chocolates and a NICE gift card to a local book shop. This year? Nothing.

Not even a, "hey, thanks for making sure all my CRAP is taken care of!" (and yes, I know that that's a poorly constructed sentence, that's why I'm able to get away with it!)

And no, I don't work here for the PRESENTS--I work here for the health insurance and that's about it. Still. The presents are LOVELY and they totally shake up the monotony of my daily life at this point.

So I started thinking of everything else that's changed in a year...please, join me for a trip down memory lane...

A year ago I was...

• job hunting, because I hate(d) my job.
• Not pregnant and still on the pill.
• just finding out that Whimsy was off the pill and trying for the BEAN.
• making plans for the Husband to start the graduate program in the Fall.
• editing. Lots of editing.
• talking about getting a dog.
• reading lots of Dickens

This year I am...

• trying to negotiate pregnancy.
• apartment hunting.
• supporting the Husband as he finishes his first year and searches for an internship
• still hate my job but not job hunting (right now).
  
• more editing.
• packing for the move into the apartment that we DON'T have yet.
  
• trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
  

At least I'm honest.

I am driving the Husband crazy.

Not just any brand of crazy--CRAZY as only the Wife can make him.

Here's the list of my methods:

• I'm tired and cranky all the time. All. of. the. Time.
• I don't feel like cooking. Ever.
• The result is that I eat the same damn thing nearly every day and pack the same damn lunches for us, every single day.
• I have watched Band of Brothers basically nonstop since I got pregnant. Don't believe me? I have sections of it MEMORIZED. I just don't feel like watching anything else and I know this is making him CRAZY...but I, like Medea, am powerless to stop myself.
• I will put on decent clothes and make-up to go to work but when I'm home with the Husband? I'm a mess. All pajamas all the time. No shoes, no make-up, hair back in a ponytail. Poor man.
• I know that he has homework and that he needs to pin down an internship for the summer (the summer which officially starts in 2 WEEKS), but I can't stop hounding him about finding an apartment, or...say...making sure that we have ice cream in the freezer. And how can he possibly plan things for Saturday?!? We have to do LAUNDRY!!!
• I am the single most irrational creature on the planet right now. I cry over every thing and if I'm not crying about it, it's because I have barely contained RAGE.

I knew when I got pregnant that it would be refining. I knew that the sacrifices entailed would make me a better person, but little did I know that having to live with me would bring the Husband near to SAINTHOOD.

Husband? Please don't leave me...I promise it will all fade and return to normal as soon as the Boy is out and no longer beating me up on the inside.

80 Days to go and the Same Damn Dress

Why, yes, I am wearing the same dress today that I wore in that 28 weeks belly picture, and yes it makes the Belly look much bigger than it is, and ask me how much I care because the dress is more comfortable than words can describe and it will be in the mid-80s today, people, the MID 80s--as in the temperature not the decade and it's only April. Also, this post is likely to be all pregnancy...so if you're not interested, by all means turn away, it will not hurt my feelings.

In other news, I had a doctor's appointment yesterday. I passed that heinous 3-hour glucose test on a technicality. So, needless to say, that the Responsible Wife is still carefully weeding out junk food and carbohydrates in order to try and have a baby that will actually fit in my body. My iron count is really low (which may explain the total and complete exhaustion of late), but the Boy is doing well and all the other related pains are just part of pregnancy.

I didn't sleep at all on Wednesday night, as in 0-hours. And at 3am I started sneezing. The Boy took a rather strong exception to all of this and began a 90 minute long mosh pit thrash session that was so exciting I nearly woke the Husband up just so that he would know that I was not exaggerating it. I didn't have the heart to tell the Boy of his immanent doom--between me and the Husband the kid is bound to have allergies and spend the rest of his life with seasonal congestion. Sorry, kid, can't win 'em all.

That early morning thrash session was repeated in less violence during the farewell party of one of the employees here at the Workplace. I was trying to be discrete in covering up his gymnastics, which were decidedly visible from the outside, lest anyone at the Workplace assume that I'm gestating some alien life-form that's going to climb out and destroy the world as we know it. I blame the ice cream cake.

One of the other girls at The Workplace delivered her big boy last night, which is great for her because the woman just finished her PhD dissertation defense and submitted the dissertation--she's so relieved to be done with that and she was so miserable and uncomfortable at the end that I'm ridiculously happy for her to have her Boy and be able to get her body back, within reason. Which leaves me. The last pregnant girl at the Workplace. It's a little bit strange. At first there were 4 of us and now there's just me...it's kind of lonely.

One last FYI for a Friday: Did you know that the Husband and I--we have some amazing friends. And we love them.

The Post that Sleepy Ate

I would love to have something intelligent and witty to say today, but I'm just so sleepy.

The Husband and I are alternating sleeping...one night he sleeps well and the next it's my turn. I'm not sure if this is some sort of marriage equilibrium that we've achieved or if we are just freaks of nature, but that's how the week has gone so far.

Last night was his turn to sleep, apparently.

Work has been rather slow, which is compounded by the fact that I'm waiting to hear about the aforementioned restructuring to see if there's anything exciting in it for me...but none of that can happen until the end of this month and so far this month is taking FOR-EV-ER.

In other news, I feel like I should be doing SOMETHING to get ready for the Boy--he's due in 12 weeks, people, 12! And could technically come at any time between 8 and 12 weeks! And I fully acknowledge that we have yet to find an apartment in which to live, The Husband has no internship fixed and I haven't even begun to pack for this move to nowhere--but I STILL need to be getting ready for the Boy and I don't know where to start!

PLEASE!! What should I be doing to get ready?

28 Weeks and Meatloaf

So...I've been watching a lot of back episodes of The Office lately. Partly stemming from when I had the flu and was actually so sick that I couldn't read and partly stemming from the fact that one of the Husband's classmates is exactly like Dwight Schrute.

I am not naming names.

In the Dwight Schrute spirit I would like to present you with some 28 week FACTS!

FACT! Being 28 weeks pregnant is uncomfortable. I never fully appreciated you, my sciatic nerve, so I can understand why you want to stab me in the...behind, but please...I'll do whatever you tell me to from now on and never take you for granted again!

FACT! Hips hurt when they have to prepare to do something that they probably don't really want to do.

FACT! It is nigh unto impossible to sleep when your hips and sciatic nerve mutiny against you.

FACT! Strawberries are the closest to bliss I can get right now. They don't care that I'm exhausted and working a meaningless job for the health insurance! They are sweet and fresh and so so delicious.

FACT! Chocolate chip ice cream is the highlight of my work week. I've weeded out nearly all junk food from my diet and have but one fixed indulgence, and that, my friends, is that little carton of chocolate chip ice cream.

FACT! No matter how hard you try you are nearly always doing something wrong. I'm trying really hard to have a sense of humor about it and not cry.

FACT! I cry a lot.

FACT! The Husband? He's eating meatloaf. Not just any meatloaf, he would have me remind you. No, he is eating CAJUN meatloaf... otherwise known as the nectar of the Meat Eating Gods.

I can't really fault him for it. He has yet another group presentation tomorrow with his group of Alpha Females who drive him bonkers because he's accustomed to living with me--and Jimmy Crack Corn and I don't care.

As for me? There's another quart of strawberries in the fridge and only 12 more weeks to go until we get to meet the boy.

Uninformative

So, I tried. I really, really TRIED. To come up with something funny to entertain you all.

But alas. I cannot. For this week is not funny. This week is busy, chaotic and more than a little surprising. The workplace is in all kinds of transition and there are many terms being bandied about which have the power to both raise my hopes only to have them squelched by my dominating cynicism and the endless grind of government bureaucracy.

Words like: restructuring, realigning, allocating resources, and empty office. Say it with me, "Emp-ty Off-ice."

Oh, how they pain us. For we do not want to get our hopes up only to have them miserably dashed. But the prospect of no longer having a job that a trained monkey could do would be oh so enticing.

I must meditate on the wisdom of Scarlet O'hara. I can't think about this now, I'll think about this tomorrow. And probably every day until May because nothing can really change before May.

Speaking of May! May is the anniversary of the establishment of Burnstopia. I am in charge of planning the festivities this year--anyone out there have any ideas? We signed up to dog-sit so going out of town is out of the question...but all other ideas will be welcomed and considered, and after the festivities I will tell you what I have done...well, within reason.

Really?

Incidentally, the following stories are TRUE and actually happened to ME.

July 2007: The Workplace.

I have made no secret of my allergy woes. It seems that I am allergic to EVERY deciduous plant EAST of the Mississippi river. And so it happens that from early March until December my sinuses govern my life rather forcefully. And messily. But that's for another blog.

So I struggled through the spring and early summer taking off occasional days that my sinuses deemed unlivable. One day, after one of these unlivable days, one of the women with whom I work met me at my desk. She came right in to my cubical, picked up my phone book, picked up my phone and dialed the walk-in clinic on campus. She's an odd woman anyway so I didn't think much of it until she asked for my insurance card. At which point I looked at her and said, "Um. Why?" and she said, "I'm making a doctor's appointment for you. You have a chronic condition and it needs to be addressed."

Let's just say that I was a bit affronted by this information. I am a competent adult. My MOTHER doesn't make doctor's appointments for me so I can't understand why this woman with whom I work feels that she has the authority to do such a thing. But I had been lectured before about the necessity to go along with whatever the professional types say and do and not making waves or ruffling feathers, so in a state of shock and disbelief I hand over my insurance card.

She made the appointment for 2pm. And in the same state of shock and disbelief I walked to the clinic, sat for the appointment, received the prescription for my lovely, lovely allergy meds and walked back to work where I could only look at my supervisor (who had overheard the entire thing) and shake my head.

Up until last week I thought that perhaps it was just this one woman. That she's just an oddball and so I mostly treat her like a slightly insane person whom I greet with smiles and nods and then merrily go my own way.

April 2008: The Workplace. Again.

The Day of the Glucose Test. And having your blood sugar messed with sort of wrecks you for the day, so I was just trying to stay afloat for those last 4 hours at work and made the mistake of mentioning in an email that I had had some lab work done that morning and so was feeling sort of *off.* A different woman with whom I work (and one of my favorites for a variety of reasons and not just because for Administrative Professionals Day last year she gave me a hefty gift card to a local book store) came by my desk and said, "What did they do to you?" And so I explained the glucose test and what all it entailed and that I was just feeling really tired that day but much of it was bound to be due to my blood sugar being all wonky.

So then she says, "Well. What if we set up a cot for you in my office. You could sleep in the afternoons." Which, yes, very sweet, but not terribly realistic. So I reminded her that I also work with 14 other professionals and that they probably wouldn't appreciate it if I just disappeared for an hour in the afternoons; and that my supervisor would really NOT appreciate it if she had to pick up my slack so that I could NAP. I knew all of this when I got pregnant. I knew that I would be working right up until the baby comes, I knew that I would be tired, I knew that I would just suck it up because that's what millions of women the world over DO.

Wednesday comes and the UPS man comes in with a Coleman Cot in a box for delivery for this one woman. I stare at it and think to myself, "Oh please, someone say she didn't buy this for me when I told her not to and everyone will hate me and think that I am a selfish, LAME pregnant girl who didn't think through the consequences of her choices in choosing to become pregnant!" But I smile and sign for it and put it in her office and pretend la la LA that maybe she's going on a camping trip! With her family! In the woods! And wants a cot for that! But didn't want it to sit on her doorstep! In her very nice neighborhood!

So Thursday comes and she slips in and says, "Did you see your cot!? Tomorrow I'm bringing a pillow and blanket for you!" At which I can only mutter feeble thanks and wish to melt into the floor.

Friday morning dawns and I'm setting up a speaker phone in the conference room for her meeting and she tells me that I'm all set, that I just need to look under her desk and it's all there any time I need to, I can just slip in there and lay down for a bit.

It's all incredibly sweet. But also a little creepy. And I have one question to ask: What is it about me that says, "I am a helpless street urchin, please take care of me."

The Boy

The Boy has been making his presence known. Very known.

Known at 3am when I'm trying to sleep. Known during church. Known at work when I'm receiving instructions and should be paying attention he starts to hammer away at my insides so that I can't really think about anything else. Known by using my bladder as a trampoline and my stomach for a punching bag. It's all making me a little seasick.

It's finally gotten to the point where I'm a bit worried he's rearranging the furniture in there.

Incidentally, we've named the boy. Actually, the Boy has been named for quite some time, but we're waiting to tell the Internet until he actually gets here and I get to see with incontrovertible evidence that he is indeed a HE. I have these odd dreams that when he's delivered he's actually a SHE and the poor child will be wearing nothing but BLUE and PLAID for the first 6 months of her life because Mama was so convinced she was having a BOY.

And while the family and select friends know The Name I continue to gratefully appreciate their continued silence on this subject. Anyone who has read this post knows how HARD it was for us to even find a name that would work. At all. We also have a girl named lined up, just in case the dreams become reality.

Please don't steal our joy.

In other news, virtually my entire family is sick. My Grandma has been in this rehab facility because she went and got herself a new Hip, because at 91 when she's got one of everything, that's what she really needed. Anyway, her roommate got really sick (the Family is convinced that it's because the facility wasn't cleaning the bathroom. At all. GROSS.) and she actually had to go to the hospital with it. Then last week my Grandma got it and then my parents and then my sister and I have no idea what I did to deserve the miracle, but I was mercifully spared.

So I've spent the weekend in isolation in order to try to stay healthy. It's also our Church's semiannual conference so we've hung out at home and done chores that have needed to be done for WEEKS and listened to conference.


There's news on the Husband front as well. See. In the department in which the Husband is a graduate student there are two degree "paths." One is Policy. Those are the guys who work for the government, are consultants, or do research. For the rest of their lives. The other path are the Bosses. As in the Bosses of doctors, nurses and other hospital staff. When the Husband applied to the program, I gently urged him towards the Bosses side of things. I just felt he was more suited to that sort of work. But he was more interested in the Policy side of things. See. The Husband has this lovely desire to want to change the world and make it a better place. Which is great. Which is necessary. But which is ultimately futile. Anyway, it's been a while in coming but I think he had a bit of a breakthrough this past week in realizing that a) he hates research and does NOT want to do that for the rest of his life and b) he doesn't want to be a consultant either. So what was to be done? He switched programs. It means he'll have a crazy-busy year next year to make up the few classes he's missed, but I think that he'll be much happier in the long run. He'll end up working in a hospital somewhere and while he may not change the world, he may get to effect change for one small corner of it.

In the meantime, Nesting has hit me, but since we're apartment hunting I can't really do much *here* so I'm one big ball of irritable frustration, and it would seem that I'm going to be this way until we move. In JUNE. I'm never gonna make it. We have a couple of leads that we're going to drive by and check out sometime today. Hopefully, one or the other will work out because I HATE hunting for real estate.

Paranoia

My family is conspiring against me.

All I want is to sleep. That's it. Seems pretty simple, right? I come home at night, we make dinner, we eat dinner, we clean up, I pack lunches for the following day and generally, I head to bed.

Bed Sweet Bed. Bed Glorious Bed. Bed where there are no tight waist bands, or bras required of me. Bed where I can let my hair down and wear no make-up. Bed where I can have soft lighting and fluffy pillows and flannel in abundance. Bed with good books and peace and quiet.

Sleep is not something that comes easily for me. The Husband can turn his brain off and be asleep, quite literally in moments. Me? We're talking an hour. At least. And that's not including things like making sure the room is absolutely dark and my white noise is playing and I'm just warm enough without being hot and I can roll around in bed without CATS laying on top of me and and and.

So we got home yesterday and ate dinner and cleaned up and packed lunches and I headed to bed. I read for a while and turned off the light and eventually, fell asleep.

Woke up at midnight to bathroom.

Woke up at 3am with cats fighting and then to bathroom again.

The Husband's FIRST alarm went off at 4am. Me? Awake. Him? not so much.

The Husband's SECOND alarm went off at 5am. Me? STILL AWAKE. Him? Sort of.

At this point I'm getting mad. The Agnes is mauling me trying to get me to wake up and PET HER for crying out loud. The boy is now awake and churning ice cream out of my insides. The Husband is barely awake but I'm starting to smack him into consciousness so he's getting there.

I get up to bathroom again and go back to bed, very much in a huff.

The Husband gets up to work on homework that's due on Friday and he's still insisting that when the alarm went off at 4am he was diligently trying to keep the Agnes off of me. I remain doubtful of this assertion as he was SNORING at 4 am.

I am rapidly reaching that point of pregnancy hysteria where if I don't get some decent sleep soon I'm going to to cry about it because all I ever wanted in the whole world was ONE decent night's sleep! WAH!

First person to tell me that, "this is all preparation for having children who will NEVER let me sleep ever, especially at the beginning"--I am going to set you on fire WITH MY MIND!

Goals Acheived!

For all of you waiting with baited breath to hear which goals I accomplished and which I did NOT--here's your update:

1) Do actual work--I did SOME actual work, and SOME reading blogs and trolling the internet in general.

2) Do not lose temper with professional types--YEP! Although there was one particularly long rant to the Husband via IM. I will not name names.

3) Do not eat entire bag of Fritos--YEP! Although I did eat a small bowl of mac and cheese, a big bowl of strawberries and a small bowl of ice cream...I'm pretty sure that none of that is particularly good for my blood sugar levels either...but I managed to NOT EAT FRITOS!

4) Do not lose temper in staff meeting and demand to know when they're going to hire another admin to take some of the load off of me and my supervisor--YEP! Of course I was sort of distracted by all the news of people leaving...so I'm not sure how much weight this success should carry.

5) Do not lose temper with co-workers and yell at them to get bent and storm out--YEP! The staff meeting and the news of people leaving and the many many teary faces sort of put a damper on any rage I may have had at the beginning. What? I'm not completely heartless.

6) Finish machine sewing receiving blankets for the Boy--YEP! Machine sewing is done! I can now beginning the finishing bits...and the blankets are so so cute...and only one of them has a giant mistake in it that I'm going to pretend, La La LA isn't there.

7) Clean the bathroom already--NOPE! Technically this one isn't my fault though, The Husband said that he would do it and then spent the majority of the evening cooking or searching for apartments for us, so I can't really complain either way.

8) Vacuum the floors already--NOPE!! By the time I got done with the blankets I was exhausted and my back was killing me so I opted for secret hidden goal 11) Go to BED.

9) Make it through the work day without stripping off my clothes and completing my work in my very comfortable underwear--YEP!!! It was pretty close there around 4pm when there wasn't any one around...but I managed to make it through the day and into the apartment before tearing off my clothes...for those interested, there followed a good scratching and LOOSE pajamas.

10) Cook actual dinner for the Husband and not just soy corn dogs--YEP! Well, I made mashed potatoes and asparagus and he made Cajun meatloaf for him. I had a Boca chicken patty for protein. And then the strawberries. And then the ice cream.

As for my Guessers: Nearly everyone gets partial credit. Well done!

Goals for the Day

So here are my goals for the day:


1) Do actual work.



2) Do not lose temper with professional types.



3) Do not eat an entire bag of Fritos. (See previous post about glucose test and the spectacular failure thereof.)

4) Do not lose temper in staff meeting and demand to know when they're going to hire another admin to take some of the load off of me and my supervisor.

5) Do not lose temper with co-workers and yell at them to get bent and storm out.

6) Finish machine sewing receiving blankets for the Boy--he woke me up at 5:30 this morning just kick-kick-kicking on my stomach and I just let him--I'm a push over already.

7) Clean the bathroom already--it's nasty.

8) Vacuum the floors already, we're walking on kitty litter over here.

9) Make it through the work day without stripping off my clothes and completing my work in my very comfortable underwear.

10) Cook actual dinner for the Husband and not just soy corndogs.

Huh. I probably don't stand a chance of actually accomplishing all of that--anyone care to vote for the top 3 most important goals that might actually be attainable? If I actually accomplish them I'll give you props on the internet for your Wife-Savviness.