Biggering and Biggering
No, not buggering. BIGGERING.
I suspect I'm half-remembering some quote from a Dr Seuss book (have I ever told you how much I love Dr Seuss?) (well I do. I really love Dr Seuss), but I can't remember which book or exactly what the quote was so I'm going to try really hard to stop thinking about it now cos otherwise it'll drive me mad and I'll spend the next two hours hunting through my son's bedroom for Dr Seuss books (we have a lot) and getting sidetracked by tidying his bedroom instead of being sidetracked by writing blog posts, which is what I'm supposed to not be doing instead of what I'm really supposed to be supposed to be doing.
Where was I? Oh yes. I am bigger.
(biggering and biggering... oh damn it, what IS that quote?)
I can still reach the keyboard. But what happens when I can't? I only just can. I've heard people talking about balancing keyboards on bumps but frankly that's just silly, particularly at the rate and ferocity at which I type, and anyway what about my RSI? Huh?
This whole bump-getting-in-the-way thing is actually getting to be quite a pain. Not because I can't reach stuff, cos so far I can always find a way to reach stuff. No. It's literally a pain. The problem is, when you know it has a bit of give in it and you just need to stretch a liiitle bit further to reach the jam or the tea or the drill or the TV remote, then that's what you do. And if someone tries to squeeze past you in the kitchen or in the pub, you end up pushing the bump against the nearest obstacle in attempt to make yourself smaller. Which would all be well and good if it weren't for the fact that it hurts. Not at the time, but afterwards. I have a kind of permanent bruise on the tip of my bump. And sometimes it gives me nasty shooting pains. No no, I'm not in labour. It's not that kind of pain. Although I do wish constipation pains and labour pains weren't so similar. When I had the miscarriage I was convinced it was just a blockage in my tubes, and now every time my poo gets stuck I think I'm heading for premature babyville. Or worse. I do wish I hadn't watched Coronation St over the last couple of weeks (they have a character who up until last week was exactly the same amount of pregnant as me, but then her baby stopped kicking...) (mine is still kicking) (but I am keeping a very hawk-like eye on it).
Well, anyway. I am also hot. Because the weather is hot. Which is all very well, but pregnancy and hotness don't mix, and my hair needs cutting, and I hate hairdressers at the best of times, but I really don't fancy being pregnant in a hair salon. All that sitting about in unsuitable seats. All that chit-chat. Pregnancy makes me very intolerant of shit-chat. It happened last time too. Ooh, that was a typo but I like it. In the last sentence but one, I mean. Or is it but-two? Anyway, my hair is thick and makes me hot.
Of course, given that I am sitting here right now shit-chatting at you in the most brazen fashion imaginable, maybe I better shut up about that.
I'm supposed to be doing other stuff really. I'll go do that instead.
P.S. I made a key lime pie last night. On a whim, because I just happened to be passing a cupboard with a broken door and there was an ancient tin of condensed milk in there (I'm not sure why, I never use condensed milk) (what's it for, anyway?) (apart from making key lime pie, that is) (and why is it sometimes called evaporated milk?) (or are they not the same thing?) and it had a recipe on the side for key lime pie, and I liked the sound of it. So I made it last night. It is YUMMY. I had to freeze most of it though, because I also made a chocolate cake two days ago and all this biggering (oh damnit, what was that book?) makes me bruised.
P.P.S. And I made a fence and a gate and a ramp at the weekend. And they work, and are much less dilapidated than the last fence and gate I made (I have never made a ramp before though) (it is for a dog) (I am proud of it), although perhaps a little lopsided.
But I am supposed to be doing other stuff than this, and I will either go away now and do that instead or find something else to distract me from it.
[wanders off in search of Dr Seuss books]
___
I suspect I'm half-remembering some quote from a Dr Seuss book (have I ever told you how much I love Dr Seuss?) (well I do. I really love Dr Seuss), but I can't remember which book or exactly what the quote was so I'm going to try really hard to stop thinking about it now cos otherwise it'll drive me mad and I'll spend the next two hours hunting through my son's bedroom for Dr Seuss books (we have a lot) and getting sidetracked by tidying his bedroom instead of being sidetracked by writing blog posts, which is what I'm supposed to not be doing instead of what I'm really supposed to be supposed to be doing.
Where was I? Oh yes. I am bigger.
(biggering and biggering... oh damn it, what IS that quote?)
I can still reach the keyboard. But what happens when I can't? I only just can. I've heard people talking about balancing keyboards on bumps but frankly that's just silly, particularly at the rate and ferocity at which I type, and anyway what about my RSI? Huh?
This whole bump-getting-in-the-way thing is actually getting to be quite a pain. Not because I can't reach stuff, cos so far I can always find a way to reach stuff. No. It's literally a pain. The problem is, when you know it has a bit of give in it and you just need to stretch a liiitle bit further to reach the jam or the tea or the drill or the TV remote, then that's what you do. And if someone tries to squeeze past you in the kitchen or in the pub, you end up pushing the bump against the nearest obstacle in attempt to make yourself smaller. Which would all be well and good if it weren't for the fact that it hurts. Not at the time, but afterwards. I have a kind of permanent bruise on the tip of my bump. And sometimes it gives me nasty shooting pains. No no, I'm not in labour. It's not that kind of pain. Although I do wish constipation pains and labour pains weren't so similar. When I had the miscarriage I was convinced it was just a blockage in my tubes, and now every time my poo gets stuck I think I'm heading for premature babyville. Or worse. I do wish I hadn't watched Coronation St over the last couple of weeks (they have a character who up until last week was exactly the same amount of pregnant as me, but then her baby stopped kicking...) (mine is still kicking) (but I am keeping a very hawk-like eye on it).
Well, anyway. I am also hot. Because the weather is hot. Which is all very well, but pregnancy and hotness don't mix, and my hair needs cutting, and I hate hairdressers at the best of times, but I really don't fancy being pregnant in a hair salon. All that sitting about in unsuitable seats. All that chit-chat. Pregnancy makes me very intolerant of shit-chat. It happened last time too. Ooh, that was a typo but I like it. In the last sentence but one, I mean. Or is it but-two? Anyway, my hair is thick and makes me hot.
Of course, given that I am sitting here right now shit-chatting at you in the most brazen fashion imaginable, maybe I better shut up about that.
I'm supposed to be doing other stuff really. I'll go do that instead.
P.S. I made a key lime pie last night. On a whim, because I just happened to be passing a cupboard with a broken door and there was an ancient tin of condensed milk in there (I'm not sure why, I never use condensed milk) (what's it for, anyway?) (apart from making key lime pie, that is) (and why is it sometimes called evaporated milk?) (or are they not the same thing?) and it had a recipe on the side for key lime pie, and I liked the sound of it. So I made it last night. It is YUMMY. I had to freeze most of it though, because I also made a chocolate cake two days ago and all this biggering (oh damnit, what was that book?) makes me bruised.
P.P.S. And I made a fence and a gate and a ramp at the weekend. And they work, and are much less dilapidated than the last fence and gate I made (I have never made a ramp before though) (it is for a dog) (I am proud of it), although perhaps a little lopsided.
But I am supposed to be doing other stuff than this, and I will either go away now and do that instead or find something else to distract me from it.
[wanders off in search of Dr Seuss books]
___
2 Comments:
evaporated milk has no sugar in. Condensed milk has a lot.
Biggering comes from the Lorax. (No, no large stack of Dr S here. This is courtesy of Google, 2 entries up from you!
Glad you're biggering though. Just as you should be. xx
The Lorax! Of course!
And I had no idea the two forms of milk were so different.
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