Alert: Nesting has begun.
The fact that a gum wrapper was left right next to the package and not placed in the garbage made me a holy terror this morning. I can't tell you how hard my blood pumped just in seeing that. I could have ripped my hair straight out of my head. I had just spent the last 24 hours on my hands and knees cleaning and organizing. My back is killing me and I'm convinced it's going to break in two. 
Although common sense would tell most people to pick up after themselves, I realize my reaction was a bit overboard. I had been a ball of anxiety the day and night before, forcing myself to nest. "The faster I nest, the faster I can relax. As soon as I relax, he will pop out." Then it dawned on me at about noon today: "Um, sweety, you are nesting. You're a total basket case and no one wants to hear you boo-hoo about how you need to remember to pack maxi pads for the hospital or the world will end."
There is no way in hell I can start labor. I'm way too busy creating the world's largest diamond at the moment. It's ok, it's almost over. How do I know so? I'll make you a list...
How I know the end is near:
I have thoughts of shaving the cat to rid him of all his allergenic fur
I have thoughts of drop kicking the dog into the next county if he makes a peep
I am having crazy nightmares that scare me well after I'm awake
I have to have everything perfect all at once
My fingers might fall off from scrubbing
My ankles are cankles
I can't see my toes.
But don't worry. My linen closet has been cleaned out and organized and all the sheet sets organized by bed size.
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