Of course my plan to get more sleep failed miserably. I couldn't get comfortable, my phone kept going off with text messages [when did I get popular?!], my cat was being psycho, the baby wouldn't stop moving for a fricking millisecond, and my hips kept popping out of place. I had planned on going to bed around 11.. then 11:30.. then midnight.. then 12:30.. I think I finally got to sleep around 1:45am.
And since I can't get more than 3, 4 hours of sleep at a time [..training for when the baby gets here, perhaps?], I was awake by 5:15am.
Then I realized how hungry I was so I had to trek it downstairs to grab some cereal and watched "Big Bang Theory" on the dvr. Then I freaked because I had forgotten to do laundry in my wrestling-watching stupor last night so I had to go back upstairs, sort my clothes, take the stupid thing downstairs, start the washer and pray it didn't wake up the dogs so they wouldn't bark and wake everyone else.. which thankfully they didn't.
So I come back upstairs and started cleaning. I can't start one chore and just stop, I have to continue cleaning. Stupid nesting instinct.
Oh well, just call me June Cleaver.
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