Meow. Moo.

I’m playing a game with myself at work.  It’s called, take-care-of-that-email-as-soon-as-it-comes-in.  Now, I am an expert procrastinator.  This, plus the fact that the nature of my job actually benefits from letting 24-48 hours pass before responding to an email, makes this new pace unusually rapid and efficient, for both me and the people emailing me.  Typically, for instance, if you email me today, I will email you back tomorrow afternoon.  Duh.  But lately, with time being of the essence, I’m responding within mere seconds.  KaPOW.  This, my friends, sets my mind at ease, keeps my inbox alarmingly empty, and also, unfortunately, will squash the dreams of these same people in a few weeks, when I disappear off of the face of the earth one day.

Unfortunately.

Do you know how many times I write the word “unfortunately” every day?  Probably two dozen times.  At least.  I am, for all intents and purposes, the bearer of bad news.  Nice to meet you.

I digress.  Whereas I am aware that we still have three weeks to do until ye olde due date, I’m finding myself fighting the urge to simply hibernate between now and then.  It’s an internal struggle – this feeling of wanting to close up shop versus working frantically to get everything ready.  This “work” thing keeps my time management in check, though, since I’m not ever left alone in my house to run around doing things half-assed, then collapse into a two-hour nap, to only get back up and start all over.

We did our fair share of this so-called “nesting” this weekend, which mainly involved getting the nursery more in order, cleaning, and picking up some things for the hospital bag, which has yet to be packed.  Physically, I’m still sleeping pretty well (knock on wood), despite the pee-Olympics.  Other than some pretty constant pain in my right hip/leg (sciatica much?), there’s been no other painful symptoms like contractions or any activity, really, other than the occasional and relatively painless Tony Braxton Hicks.  I try to get a little cat-cow in every night, as well as some stretching to keep things loose.  I had my last prenatal massage after work today, which I will deeply miss having an excuse for such an indulgence after Vegas is here.

Another nesting symptom?  I’m still awake here at 10pm.  So is my wife.  If you knew us, knew us, you’d have your mouth gaping open in astonishment that this is even possible.  Even the dog threw a tantrum 30 minutes ago in protest that we were keeping him up.  Well, I AM yawning.