Life post-job.

I am now officially off the schedule at my job. I'm still technically an employee, only I'm now an "on-call" producer. My boss really, really didn't want me to quit, and this way, after I give birth and feel ready/decide to return I can do so easily and without having to sign any papers.

So that means for the past five days I have gone to bed at night, with my fiance by my side, without sunlight boisterously pushing its way through the cracks in my blinds. I wake up in the morning, with my fiance still by my side and the welcome sight of sunlight coming through the blinds. It's been heaven.

It's been so nice, in fact, that it's overshadowed the fact that I suddenly feel so tangibly, irreparably, undeniably PREGNANT. I have to stop to take a breath on my way up the stairs. I moan when I bend down and even louder when I stand back up. Hardly a minute goes by of any day that I'm not stricken with some new ache or pain coming from my baby-making area. I walk around with my hand on my back. The clerk at the gas station, the waiter at the restaurant, the old lady staring me down in line at the grocery store all ask me when I'm due. There's no turning back now.

Jason and I are moving next weekend, so I have very, very, very slowly started the packing process. I figure if I pack two boxes a day until then I can spend D-day drinking hot cocoa and watching the movers do every single ounce of dirty work without feeling the smallest bit of guilt.

The components of Adelyn's nursery are starting to come together. The type A part of me is way too excited about setting everything up. I'm almost salivating at the thought of putting the room together (or maybe it's the promise of the cheeseburger Jason's bringing me on his way home from work in a few minutes).

One more week.