Posted November 13, 2008on:
When we moved into our townhouse, I got it in my head that I would paint the master bedroom. The walls are 12′ by 15′ by 8′ so its a fairly large space. Darren told me to go and get some primer and start with that.
So I went to Home Depot, bought three cans of primer, some brushes, dropclothes, spackle, spackle spreader thing and went to town on the master bedroom. It took two coats of primer to cover up the marks in the walls (they’d never been finished properly). And then I stopped because I didn’t really like painting.
That was in October 2006. The master bedroom walls are still primer’d.
(Yes, I am in the process of contacting painters to come in. It will be painted, as will the rest of top level and the main level)
One of the questions I get asked a lot lately is, “So, how are you feeling?”
You’ll note that this is a bit different than “how are you?”
The people that ask this are generally well-meaning and generally interested in my (and the poptart’s) well-being. And for that, I am grateful.
And I usually respond with, “Oh pretty good.” And change the subject. Because physically, yeah, I feel pretty good. I am the pregnant woman that other pregnant women love to hate. I’ve had no morning sickness and nothing worse than a couple of weeks of extreme tiredness and some sore boobs, which, while they have dissipated, aren’t completely gone.
Over the last few days, I had a revelation.
Darren and I were sitting on the sofa the other night, and I was feeling somewhat sorry for myself for no particular reason other than its been a hellish couple of weeks at work, and I am tired. And it hits me: I don’t like being pregnant.
I don’t like being tired all the time. I don’t like feeling like I never get enough sleep. I don’t like feeling like I’m going to burst into tears one second and laugh hysterically the next.
Me: I don’t really like being pregnant.
Darren: Its not like putting primer on the walls.
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