forevermeg (forevermeg) wrote,

  • Mood:

Don't Even Ask....

When was the last time I blogged? Monday? Why didn't I finish? What did I do Monday?


No answer. Moving on.

I do remember a little of what I was talking about. Dishes. Dishes good. Didn't do dishes on Monday. Why?

Because of our stupid cat!

Yes, that morning, Milo was stupid.

I was ready to stick him in the garbage disposal.

Long story. Don't ask.

Okay, you can ask, maybe I'll actually explain one of these days.

Don't hold me to it, though.

Sometime during the night Micah and I woke up to a crash of some sort in the kitchen. We figured that Milo had jumped up on the counter had knocked something down. Great. Just great. But as far as we remembered, the only thing on the counter was a plastic container of cookies. Oh well. Would have liked to keep those cookies.. but... ZZZzzzzzzz...

In the morning I went out and what do I find on the floor? Yes, the container of cookies.

And a broken glass.

And not just any broken glass.

Micah's Bethel Fire Department collector's glass.




Out of all the glasses in the kitchen and the several sitting here on the counter you had to go and knock over the one of FOUR special, one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable glasses???


And come on, it wasn't even the one with the nick in it! If you had to break one of THOSE glasses, couldn't it have been the one with the nick in it?

So yes. Stupid cat.

But I think it scared two or three of his nine lives out of him, cause he hasn't come within 5 feet of the counter since.


Now, back to the dishes=therapy.

Really, washing dishes has been very therapeutic for me. It actually doesn't take that long once I get down to it and I love the accomplished feeling I get afterward while standing in the midst of my clean kitchen.

But best of all, dishes is something that I can control. Does that sound awful? Really, it's not even so much about the control factor but that it sometimes that I can do and see the immediate results.

Being pregnant, my life is not my own. My body is not my own. My time is not my own. And even though I see my tummy getting bigger each week or feel the baby getting stronger, it's still a long process. Nine long months. That's a long time to see something come to completion. But give me 15 minutes and a sponge and I can transform a dirty, greasy kitchen into a sparkling oasis.

I like that.

I like that a lot.


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