I woke up early today (aka "on time") and was all excited for a nice, early arrival at work. But instead I decided to update the blog. Meh.

I don't have much to say, other than to reiterate how much I hurt. Everywhere. Hands. Feet. Calves. Buttocks. Eyelids, now that I think about it. 2. More. Months. I'm already looking forward to going to the birthing tent at the state fair, because I will sit down with the animals and tell them I understand. Can you imagine giving birth with hundreds of screaming kids and sorority girls staring at you, trying to pet you? I already told A I'm going to play a practical joke, bring a water balloon and discreetly pop it in the birth tent as though my water has broken. Maybe I'll ask a vet to deliver me.

The state fair is my personal reason that I hope I don't go into labor early. Because I love the state fair. I think we go 3 times each year, each time gushing about how wonderful it is. What is so wonderful, exactly? I don't know. The fried food, to be sure. The useless brochures for housing improvements we think we need. The random crafts that you forgot people still do.

The nursery is almost finished. After that, it's pack the hospital bag time. Then it's have the shower time, and fill in anything I need. (Nipple cream!) Then it's time to wait. I don't quite understand this "nesting" thing people talk about; other than those tasks, all I want to do is sit on the couch. Baby doesn't care if the house is clean. And she won't crawl for a while, so I have time to worry about the floors. Maybe my "nesting" jut has yet to hit.