Dear G*d, but I’m bored. Andrew is in NY until next week, doing important things. I should be doing important things, like planning the wedding or packing the house, but I’m just not in the mood. I’m not in the mood to do much of anything. I’m bored with all of my activity options. Boo.
I think the fetus is bored too. He spiced up a bit when I was singing and doing the dishes, and again when I ate a bunch of chocolate chips and pumpkin seeds and read him some Harry Potter (we’re on the Chamber of Secrets right now…). But now he’s pretty quiet…just the odd boot to the ribs now and then. Which I take as a sign of boredom. No surprise, really. It can’t be that exciting in my uterus.
These are the times when I wish I was my cat. Well, these times and every morning when she’s all maxed out on the bed and I’m frantically trying to remember where I put my glasses/bus pass/keys while at the same time hopping around trying to squeeze my ever-expanding pregnant ass into the only decent pair of pants I have left. Z-bone is rarely bored. Right now she is passed out after a half hour stint with a piece of velcro she managed to detach from my printer cord. In a few minutes, when I close the blinds, this movement too will excite her and cause her to stare at the window intently for a good 10 minutes. When all else fails, she can always resort to chasing nothing. Lucky Boney.
I know I’ll look back at this post in a couple of months and hate this Ezmy. Future Ezmy will never be bored and will long for the days when she had time to write lame posts like this. But right now, this Ezmy wants something new to do. I need a new book or a new painting project. Or maybe I just need sleep. Blllllaaaaaahhhhh.