Violation

I was printing statements to the printer in the hallway, about 54 pages of them to be exact, and as they finished printing I heard some of them fall to the floor. Terrific, I thought.

I sighed and went to go pick them up. Everyone else was in session, so I just squatted down and started picking them up. It only took me about 10 seconds to notice the draft and realize I was probably showing the top of my ass crack. NO ONE at work needs to see my ass crack, I thought and I prepared to change positions. JUST AS THAT THOUGHT CROSSED MY MIND, I heard the tiniest sound behind me. The guy that's here on Thursdays was behind me, letting in a client. MY GOD he takes silent steps. The only sound that got my attention was the damn door being cracked open. He HAD to have seen my ass crack. How do you NOT notice something like that? Now, this guy is very polite, he's a friend of mine, and he's probably 15 years older than I am, and he didn't say a word. I will be forever grateful for that, but still. What timing.

By the time he'd turned back around (THANK GOD he had his back to me when I realized what had just happened), I had switched from squatting to sitting on my knees and the draft was gone and the crack was covered. I hope he noticed that I fixed it. You KNOW he must have looked. I would have.

I wonder who felt more violated - him or me?

A freaking miracle

Today I left the dogs outside like I do on most work days. As I pulled out of the driveway, I noticed it was pretty cloudy, but I figured that as the day progressed and got hot, the clouds would probably burn off or move on. So I kept driving. I was in a hurry anyway.

I thought about them off and on throughout the day, crossing my fingers that it hadn't rained on them. See, we dismantled our deck not long ago, and we have a large square of just dirt next to the patio now. Rain + dirt square = huge mud pit. Huge mud pit = huge mess. My fingers were crossed so tightly I'm surprised they didn't grow together.

When it was finally time to leave work, I threw open the door of my building. Expecting to feel the heat of the sun on my face, I was very surprised to instead feel cool, fall-like air and see big puddles everywhere. The cool air immediately jolted me out of the somewhat bad mood I'd been in all day and suddenly I was smiling for no reason and feeling the sudden urge to burst into a verse of "Singin' in the Rain." Still, in the back of my mind, I knew that disaster awaited me at home. I just couldn't be bothered to stress about it right then.

When I pulled into our neighborhood, it didn't seem too wet. Maybe it didn't rain here too much, I thought naively. However, as I neared our driveway, I saw the telltale puddles in the alley. Yep, it looks like we had a downpour. CRAP.

I went inside and took a look out the window overlooking the back patio and dirt square. Oh, it was muddy all right, and there were about 60 doggie footprints in it. I took a deep breath, got the towels ready by the door, and brought Thing 1 inside.

Normally, if there's mud in the backyard, Thing 1 will wind up looking like he used it as a slip 'n slide. Today, however, all he had on his feet was some dried mud. The rest of him was clean. I'd caught a lucky break. I didn't expect much more.

Next, I brought Thing 2 in. While he doesn't usually get too filthy, his feet are more difficult to clean seeing as they're HUGE and he is quite the squirmer. Today, though, he slowly walked in and immediately laid on the towel I'd set out. Holy shit. Pinch me, I'm dreaming. His feet weren't even dirty.

I was so pleased with the dogs for leaving my sanity intact that I praised them over and over, "Good job staying clean!" After awhile, I felt like I was congratulating an alcoholic for making it a week without booze.

Such is the life of a dog owner. Crisis averted.

Ew.

I would like to know what the deal is with old ladies and stinky perfume. It seems there is a near-universal theme here; old lady equals repugnant stench of perfume probably as old as they are that will melt your face off if you stand near it for too long because they bathed in it then sprayed it on from head to toe.

Is that why their wrinkles are so saggy? Because their perfume is melting their faces? Can they even smell it? Has it singed out all of their nose hairs? Do you lose your sense of smell when you get old? Do they think it's a preservative? Or do they think that the horrid smell will distract people from the fact that they're old? Do they purposely try to knock people unconscious? Are they trying to leave a scent trail in case they die?

Follow the rules and no one gets hurt

The Secret Bitch's Rules of Pregnancy:

1. All drinks must be ice cold. Especially water. Do not try to pass off that lukewarm liquid as drinkable or you'll end up very wet.

2. Do not ask me to remember anything that happened earlier than one hour ago. Chances are I probably won't.

3. Do not steal my Jolly Ranchers. I need them. If you want one, you may have your pick of the apple and watermelon flavors. If I catch you stealing any other flavor, the consequences will be severe.

4. If you ask what I want to eat, be prepared for either a definitive answer that is completely inflexible or the response of "Nothing sounds good." Do not argue with me and do not make food suggestions. Chances are good you'll only make things worse.

5. Don't judge me for not exercising. I'm just now getting to the point where the thought of going for a walk doesn't make me nauseous.

6. Don't judge my eating habits. Normally I am a healthy eater, but some days the only food that doesn't nauseate me is a pop tart or a donut. My sugar tolerance has improved greatly. My stamina has not.

7. Be prepared for me to use up all the tissues and don't complain about it. I'm stuffy all the time. When I'm not stuffy, I'm sneezy and runny. Deal with it.

8. The room's temperature and air flow is never right. Don't be surprised to see me turning fans on and off. At your house. Don't complain. If you're cold, put on a jacket.

9. The air conditioning must be turned on the second I get in the car. I cannot tolerate being hot. Don't question it and don't hesitate.

10. I also can't tolerate being hungry or having to pee. If I don't get relief pretty soon things start to go downhill. Make a note.

11. Don't smoke around me. Period.

12. Please don't touch my stomach. I don't have a belly yet, and you can't feel anything. I can't even feel anything, what makes you think you're so special? Have you ever heard of boundaries?

13. Be prepared to hear me curse more than you're used to. It doesn't take much to irritate me, and I don't hold back as much as usual. Some have found this to be quite entertaining. Others have found it to be fairly offensive.

14. Don't call me lazy for sleeping in. I need all the rest I can get, and I'm not going to feel bad about it. See 13 if you insist on being persistent.

15. I'm not going to make it to everything I'm invited to. I have gotten much more stringent about choosing my priorities. It's out of necessity so I can decrease my stress level, it's nothing personal. Don't whine or cry about it, at least not to me.

16. Yes, we have chosen names, and no, we are not going to change them. And if you don't like them, keep it to yourself. We frankly don't give a damn.

17. Just because I complain does not mean I'm not thrilled to be expecting. In case you haven't heard, pregnancy pretty much sucks. The end result is worth it, but until then, Suck City.

18. Don't ask me whether I want a boy or girl. That's a stupid question. I can't control it, and I will be happy with whichever I end up with. That will always be my answer. Don't make me repeat it.

19. I am not willing to travel very far. I am nauseous enough without adding car sickness to the mix.

20. If I seem irritable, upset, tired, etc, don't ask me what's wrong. Hello, I'm pregnant, there doesn't need to be anything else wrong!

Rules are subject to multiply without warning.

Munchies

A few moments ago, I was rifling through my purse looking for a Jolly Rancher to suck on to keep my nausea at bay, and I discovered the half bag of M&Ms I'd stashed in there just last night. My immediate reaction was OH MY GOD, I HAVE M&MS. How could I have forgotten?

When I accidentally dropped one on the floor, I just about had a heart attack. ONE LESS M&M! Oh, cruel world!

I wish I could blame this on the pregnancy hormones, but alas I really do love chocolate that much.