It Always Comes Back to the Goats

My favorite maxi-dress that has been a staple of my pregnant summer wardrobe shrank in the wash. I am…devastated. Also, continuing to wear it in all its shrunken glory because I just don’t know what else to do. I hate pants.

Recently I have found myself working late into the night, and yet somehow just falling more and more behind. (I haven’t even been napping all that much.) It has gotten frustrating, and the downside of working from home is that you’re never removed from work. So while The Funasaurus watches his beloved True Blood, I sit upstairs in my office snarling at my computer and cursing invoices everywhere for not being able to process themselves. This has led to near anxiety attacks, and because I now have a new life priority (Try Not to Birth Crazy Baby) and cannot resort to old calming techniques (boxed wine) I decided to Fuck It today and went swimming with a friend this afternoon, and then out to dinner with some neighbors tonight. (Happy birthday not-Wassie, as I had you in my phone for so long. I did finally change it.) Then I watched TV with The Funasaurus for the first time since we’ve been home from California. I feel very Zen. I will not feel Zen tomorrow when my boss asks how far I’ve gotten, but I am not thinking about that for now.

I find myself fantasizing about my goat herd, and thinking this would be an awesome summer to be a pregnant herder, because I wouldn’t have to walk very far because we’ve gotten so much rain there’s a ton of grass and green growth everywhere. Including noxious weeds. And the goats would eat all my stupid pokey thistle and that’d be great because I really hate bending down to pull those suckers out. Goats would solve everything.

I wanted beehives too, but it turns out I am not as loving towards the bees as I professed to be, because I hacked back this huge bush in our alleyway that was just swarming with happy little fuzzy honeybees because it was scratching my car’s paint. Stupid bush. Fortunately, there’s a ton of these bushes growing in the vacant lots to both the north and south of us, so hopefully the bees will find their way there and not die off causing me all sorts of traumatic post-bush-hacking-grief.

I get traumatized easily these days. This is valuable information to share, actually. Please think about dropping a) kittens b) rainbows c) unicorns d) thistle-eating goats into any conversations we might have in the next couple of months. You are much more likely to get a non-hormonally-charged response out of me.