Ahh, pregnancy. The past couple of weeks have passed in a haze of tiredness, naps and rampant, full-throttle nausea. I have begun to truly appreciate what the women of history have done in birthing all those babes--and I'm only at the beginning.
Smells really make me crazy. Especially the smell of Bear, our foster dog, who I have now taken to calling Stinky, Big Head. He's a lovely, deserving creature, but he has this lingering odor that we just can't get rid of. Craze and I bathed him again today (second bath in two weeks, not to mention the numerous wipings down with deodorizing dog wipes and I even brushed him down with baking soda a couple of times) and he still has a lingering fragrance that just gets right up my nose and makes me feel puky.
He has been with us now for two weeks and his health and temperament are much improved and we'll know in a couple of weeks if his heart worm has been eradicated. But it's hard for me to really warm to him because his smell drives me nuts. This would be fine if we were just keeping him for just a few more weeks until we find him a lovely new family. But I think there is a problem. . .I think Craze has fallen for someone else. Yes, it's true. And his name is Stinky, Big Head.
In addition to the too-many-pets-one-of-which-is-quite-smelly chaos of my home, my aunt and uncle are coming to stay with us from England for almost three weeks. And they'll be here in 2 weeks and 6 days. Before they come, we have a list of household chores longer than my right leg (and I'm tall, y'all) because we have been lax in our housekeeping and Craze's stuff has taken over. And I refuse to let them stay in our current guest room where it is very possible that they might be crushed in their sleep by a 8-foot shelf of disorganized comics and there's no proper ventilation. So, I've told Craze his giant mess of a CD room needs to become the guest room. In 2 weeks and 6 days. Yeah. . .we'll see if that happens.
In the meantime, I can't decide if it's time for bed, whether or not I should have some more cream of mushroom soup (one of the few foods I could eat this past week), or if I should just go throw up and get it over with. Decisions, decisions. . .