There is something a bit off about me.
I keep sneezing. All the damn time - it's annoying and I hate being congested. Punk boy has a hard time falling asleep at night. He comes to bed much later than I. I am already deep in sleep and apparently my new bad habit of SNORING is keeping him up.
I, according to him, rattle the mattress with my deep snores.
He just doesn't have the heart to wake me up when he knows sleep has been difficult, but with me off work now, that luxury is being taken away. Now he has to be up for work and my bad habits are a horrible distraction.

So this is my first official week of being off work. I spent yesterday sleeping in and then visiting with my sister. Today, I have spent it tied to the stove thus far. I've been cooking - two quiches and a batch and a half of toll house chocolate chip cookies. The quiches look lovely. Broccoli with sauted mushrooms and onions with two kind os of cheese (cheddar and swiss). I noticed half way through cooking them that I also had a block of feta in the fridge that would have been a nice topper to the them but fuck it, why mess with something when it's almost done? The cookies were hit a miss. The first few to bake were flat and overdone. Added more flour and reduced the time and suddenly I'm the toll-house-cookie-fucking-master.

I'm feeling slightly restless these days. Sea Monkey is due any day now - offical due date is November 26th - one week away. Punk Boy believes that this weekend might be it as both he and his father were born on the 23rd of their respective months. I am just not sure what to do with myself. I've been staying close to home, been taking it easy and have been trying to keep myself sort of active. I'm afaid to go out in public and suddenly Sea Monkey decideds to make an appearance. I rather be somewhere familar and comfortable when it happens. I sometimes debate putting my suitcase for the hospital in my car as a percaution, and a towel...

The apartment smells wonderful - as much as I can smell through my congested nose. I sometimes wish I was more of a domestic goddess, but I am happy with the amount I do get the urge to do. Maybe this is my form of nesting? I've had no desire to change around the bedroom or the living room, but lately, I do want to bake and cook things. Not a lot, just a few. I am not so opposed to cooking dinner, which, trust me, is my least favorite thing to do. Is it nesting or just boredom?