Fallout

No, this isn't a scene from an episode of Hoarders.

This is a scene from my temporary reality, 

what I like to call Kitchen Remodel Fallout.

And it's killing me.

For the past two days, I've been on couch arrest,

thanks to my husband who is convinced that

I'm "overdoing" it.  What can I say?

He's right; as I've mentioned numerous times,

I'm not good at being pregnant but I'm even 

worse at being on couch arrest.  Particularly now 

that my once ordered home is in a 

state of turmoil and confusion. 

This is not how I live and having to sit

and view it from the couch while 

under strict orders not to get up 

and organize it is torture.

Which is why yesterday, 

when I read about this treat

on my bestest bloggy friend's post, 

I confronted my jailor upon his 

return from work and demanded 

some release time. Thankfully, he complied.

Oh, love!

Thanks for giving me something to live for, Ash!

Ps. Ya know how everyone says that one of 

the best parts of pregnancy is that the prenatals

will make your nails grow like mad? 

Well, check out that thumbnail, baby;

anxious, much?