It's only 9 months... but it feels like Maternity...

Now Known As Postnatal Oppression

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Evidence that I am Losing It:

1. I am forgetting Everything
(a) I was meant to take a sound card back to PC World the other night. We got in the car, knowing that we had only enough petrol to get to Sainsburys so we could fill up and go there afterwards because it's next door. Half-way there the husband asked if I had my card with me. I thought he meant my Nectar card so I said "Yes," in a stroppy tone because I've always got it with me and he never has his so why would he be questioning me. He replied "the sound card?" and I went quiet. We had to go all the way there, fill up with petrol, and then come home again, and it's still sitting on my dining room table. I couldn't think of any way to blame the husband for that one either.
(b) The same night, I was going round to get my PC back off poor Mr B, and I had some lettuce for Vic the Bunny. I left it out purposely to remind me to take it. I left it on the side. Poor Vic the Bunny went lettuce-less and the lettuce had to go in the bin.
(c) Countless things at work... but I'm not admitting to those, even on here :)

2. I was trying to describe to the husband what my cat's fur looked like when I stroked her the wrong way, and the phrase "guinea piggy" came out. I then spent 10 minutes in hysterics at just how funny it sounded while the husband looked on in alarmed bafflement.

3. I can't get organised at all. I know exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and when, and yet somehow it whizzes past me in a blur and I've no idea how I didn't manage to do it. Although to be fair, this may have been happening before I was knocked up. But now I have an excuse.

4. I am in a better mood with everyone. This, as anyone who knows me knows, is definitely not like me. I'm a lot more tolerant of all the stupid fuckwits and their moronic ramblings that I come across every day. It has absolutely got to be hormones, because normally I would rip people's arms off and beat their heads in with them just to shut them up. As for the belly-rubbers, a swift punch in the face used to do the trick. Now I'm stood there like a broken-in horse being petted. But I'm like one of those horses where, yes, it might have been broken in, but it's looking askance at you and... just thinking... about how nice it would have been to sink its teeth into your arm.

5. I seem to be crying at soppy things more than usual - It's Me or the Dog set me off a couple of weeks ago, and the Royle Family the other night. I admit to blubbing at some things, but I'm not your standard weeping woman (I got glared at in the cinema for laughing at the end of Titanic) so this is also definitely spawn-related. The husband is endlessly amused by it.


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