God, I have no idea how we’re going to get up in time for work tomorrow. I don’t think we’ve been up earlier than noon since Christmas Day. So, this is another baby con – no more lie-ins, unless we’re lucky enough to have a baby who’s as lazy as we are. Mr B once told me that he now counts 7.30am as a lie-in. Hell.
Mr P stayed up until about 3.30am browsing lighting options for my dressing room, which is actually the spare room and would end up as the baby’s room (I loathe the word ‘nursery’). I think this means that he didn’t take my comment, albeit drunken, about having a kid this year seriously. Room space will be an issue though, should we choose to procreate. It would be impossible to squeeze my dressing table, clothes rail and shoe collection into our bedroom. I know this is a first-world problem and that people do this with much less space. It seems daft to me though that we have a dining room that we rarely use – maybe I could have a downstairs dressing room?
Obviously, I realise that I am over-thinking the situation hugely as I’m not even up the duff yet, let alone have we actually made the decision to bite the bullet, but that’s what this blog is about for me – a safe place to lay down my neuroses without fear of garnering judgement.
The plan for our last day at work is to take the whippet for a long walk, Hoover the house and do an upper body work-out if I can be bothered.
Back to reality tomorrow.