Late-Night Insanity

I forgot that I had to take my prenatal vitamin tonight (I didn't get to take it yesterday or this morning because I was out and the pharmacy wasn't open on Memorial Day), but I did remember that I had a bunch of photos to upload, which kept me downstairs until 12 a.m., Bill complaining and then falling asleep on the couch instead of going upstairs to bed without me. Then I remembered to refill my water bottle before going upstairs, whereas I usually get up there and beg Bill to run downstairs and do it for me. As I was walking into the kitchen, I decided that the dog didn't need anymore water tonight, and I'd wash her bowl (since Bill just leaves it there and refills it every morning, even though he claims to clean it). But once I picked it up, I saw all this black gunk stuck in the grooves of the bowl (which is supposed to look like a crown -- not our choice; it was the only design they had at Ikea at the time of purchase). So I had to get a toothpick, and finally Brillo, to clean out that gunk because, God knows, Maeberry has enough problems with her stomach that she doesn't need to be licking black gunk every time she drinks some water.

Finally, I finished that, filled my water bottle, turned off the television and the light, and woke Bill to go to bed. Upstairs, I realized that my pajamas were in the clean laundry basket and ran downstairs, toothbrush in mouth, to get the basket. Bill, tired and afraid I was going to start yelling, began to fold the laundry, and because my mouth was filled with toothpaste (and I was breathing heavily through an always-clogged nose after walking downstairs and back up again), I didn't tell him that he didn't have to. I took my clean pajamas into my dirty bathroom, where I brushed, and then peed, and thought about how I wish I just had one more day at home -- and an energy burst that wouldn't leave me unable to move in the morning -- to get the bathroom cleaned.

The problem with the bathroom is that we have all this stuff going on in the nursery. Since the two are connected by a doorway, everything that gets moved out of the nursery goes right into the bathroom, or our bedroom. Currently, there is a gigantic cardboard box filled with books -- novels, poetry collections, textbooks, stylebooks, etc. -- sitting in the middle of the bathroom. Fortunately, the bathroom is large enough to accommodate that. But the box is right next to a hammer, and paint brushes, and screws, and leftover pieces from the old bathroom door handles. We picked up the bathroom rugs ages ago, and they've been washed and folded, waiting for us to set them back down on the floor. But what's the sense of vacuuming and mopping the bathroom floor with all this work being done, and all this excess crap in the bathroom? Makes sense, right?

But we've been doing this project for about two months now. I actually wear flip flops into the bathroom. I do. I wear them in the bathroom, and then I take them off, and put them right in front of the shower door for when I'm done showering -- that way my clean feet don't touch the disgusting floor. I feel like I'm living in a college apartment all over again.

Is this nesting? I don't know. Despite my digust at the current state of my house, I haven't actually gotten it clean yet. I feel like I haven't even started, and when I do start a project, it turns into a hundred other projects, none of which are ever finished. But I do have these bursts of energy -- of commitment -- to clean up and beautify my home.

So I don't know if this is nesting. But this pigsty could sure use it!