I have bowed to pressure.
Why, I don’t know. Because, quite frankly, it is downright boring.
Everyone who knows better – ie everyone in the world who is not a medical professional and feels it is their duty to tell me what I want, don’t want, can and can’t do – has been pressuring me to pack, sit back, relax, think of the baby.
Quite frankly, there’s not much to think about re the baby. It’s in my belly. It’s not wandering off anywhere.
So, that thought was over and done with in about 2.7 seconds.
Next, pack. Um, well, the baby stuff is. Coz, really, there was nowhere else to put it. And if I pack my stuff, I’ll be walking about pantsless for the next week or so, so maybe I will just pack closer to the date.
And do a wash a day or so earlier to relieve this mind-numbing boredness!!!
Finally, sit back and relax. Refer to above comment re mind numbing boredness!!!
Attempt to fill time rechecking backed bags and organised piles of things.
Does anyone have any idea how many times you can recheck this stuff before actually wanting to kill yourself?
Am I allowed to do some work now, please?