Okay, so the title is a bit of a lie: I totally can sleep. Not, of course, as well as I could if I were to say, pop a couple of Ambien, but I consider any sleeping at night in my 33rd week to be a huge coup. (As a not so aside, aside, let me give a brief but forceful shout out to Benedryl. Thanks for being there for me, man.).
But it does appear, sleeping or not, that all of my thwarted and aborted previous attempts at nesting have come back and bitten me in the butt. So now, rather than just hurry up and order the damn swing that for some reason I haven’t ordered (and is subsequently driving me wild), I’m doing a complete and utter purge of my house.
This is also brought on by the upcoming Christmas holiday in which my children, the youngest on all sides of the family next to The Daver and I, our children tend to be indulged to the nth degree each and every holiday. Any attempts at dissuading people to spend their money elsewhere tend to go unheard, so many of these toys go directly to people in need, without being opened by my children’s grubby paws.
Now, since I’m no packrat and I tend to purge my house every couple of months or so, this is less an easy task than you’d think. But surprisingly, I’ve found a huge amount of things that the Salvation Army will be inheriting just as soon as I shove it all into my car and drive it over to the center.
Before you go (rightly) all environmental on me, trust me when I tell you that I’ve significantly reduced the amount of impulse crap that I buy. Another sign that I know I’m getting all geriatric on you is that I can actually say (and mean) that Less IS More. Unless it comes to either diamonds or sparkly stuff. Then More is Golden.
I’m not really sure how the impending arrival of Baby Sausage translates in my hormonally addled brain to the necessity of removing all old socks and underwear from my house (I mean, is she going to come home and immediately turn up her nose at my slovenly house-keeping abilities? Because if she is, SHE CAN TOTALLY CLEAN IT UP HERSELF), but I guess I’m not one to question nature. I’ve not nested like this before, but I can totally assure you that is more rewarding than a deep dish pizza OR a killer orgasm (or both, in whatever order you like).
And I’m pretty convinced that I am powerless to stop. Completely powerless over my urge to purge. How am I so sure? If I could, I would happily come over to YOUR house and do the same thing for you. FOR FREE. Insane? Yes. Hormonal? Totally. Completely happy stewing in my hormone stew? 100%.
Are you a purger or a hoarder? I’m dying to know what The Internet thinks.