With less than 3 weeks to go until my due date, the nesting instinct had hit again, and hard. I spent most of the day doing load after load of laundry, reorganizing the nursery, packing and repacking my hospital bag, stripping the bed and washing all the linens (including a mattress cover that I'd all but forgotten we had), and cleaning out the refrigerator. It feels good to get things clean, but by no means can I say the house is clean. It's not. In fact, it's a filthy pit of despair, overall. I don't think I have the time or energy to clean it all myself, so a friend of mine gave me the name and number of her housekeeper, and I'm going to break down and hire her for one big, all-emcompassing, mega clean.

I don't have much of a mind lately, which is sort of embarrassing as well as annoying. Even when I try to steer my thoughts away from the coming birth and parenthood, they somehow find a way of steering themselves right back. I don't want to be completely immersed in it, but I guess at this point there's nothing else nearly as interesting going on in my world. So, it's sorta understandable, right?