We took the kids out for a day of cleaning and getting to know the new digs. Otto was a bit under the weather, Lucy is recovering from a concussion (long-story-short scared the crap out of us, but she’s going to be fine and now we know where the urgent care is.) and Minty is three … so the kids hung out mostly in the library watching movies with occasional burst of distraction. I did manage to get down to the tennis court with Otto and hit a few balls back and forth. I think he has potential!
Brent split his time with the gentleman who is getting the hot water working, dealing with service set-up while helping me with the upstairs bedrooms. The little animals, dust, webs, debris, old curtains and fallen posters of bedrooms past suggest a daunting task for cleaning so we’re taking it one square inch at a time. A macro first pass followed by a detail is the theme to operation clean-up. This must be the most satisfying project for that “nesting urge” pregnant ladies get in their third trimester. I’ve never been more motivated to sweep.
Michael, our friend, Munson’s keeper and the-guy-with-the-espresso-machine, was busy getting his temporary accommodation all comfy cozy like. No sooner had I began resting my legs for a little pregnant pause when Michael rounded the corner with a steaming hot, well-pulled latte. All for me. I met the best latte I ever had. I hadn’t had a one for a year. The aroma, the flavor, the sensation tickled my inner yuppie presenting an uncontrollable grin. Despite a desperate need for a haircut and my minimal allowance of photographic evidence during pregnancy, I allowed a quick snap as a souvenir for this moment.
What I don’t understand is how you don’t look preggers at all in that photo!
Black is magic to waistlines of which I have none. Were I to stand up, my previously firmed abdominals are less like a six-pack (heh) and more like a bag used for boxed wine.