We took advantage of the near-empty roads in London in order to go shopping in Fulham so that I could go Awwwwww at baby stuff and go try on pretty clothes in Blooming Marvellous where there were excellent clothings on sale, and I bought this and my goodness, it has changed my life for the better.
In fact, it's done more than that. It has revamped my life. It has liberated me. It has given me a new life, a life in which I am free of back and hip pain. A life in which I sleep like a sweet, fluffy, organic lamb and am no longer required to mount complex and doomed architecture out of pillows to try and get comfortable. I love my sausage cushion. I adore it. I worship it like a graven image. Words cannot do justice to how much I appreciate it.
When I am not in blissful sleep I can be often heard uttering sentences such as "Oh beautiful thing, where have you been all my life? Never leave again! Oh I love you so much." Z may be starting to develop an inferiority complex. Or who knows, perhaps he is as inwardly gleeful as I am considering that thanks to my pain-free state I am finally having sex again, and therefore my life is clearly a success.
On Sunday we woke up all sun-drenched and motivated and decided to do exercises and go to the Unitarian Church I am quite fond of, except that I am more fond of breakfast and since there wasn't scope to do both and make the service on time we chose the latter. And then went walking around Hampstead Heath as a replacement uplifting spiritual experience. (It was ace. The Heath was full of kamikaze children hurtling themselves down hills on bikes and scooters and highly-excitable dogs who came to present us with sticks, slippers, and in one case a squeaky penguin toy). To top off this goodness we followed it up with a fantastic tapas lunch at my favourtie Spanish place and then an impulse visit to long-lost friends of Z's whom he hadn't seen in years.
And while the weekend was all about the decadence, Monday was spent in righteousness in the form of Cleaning Of the House and the Shredding of The Papers.
We applied ourselves to this task for well-nigh ten hours and turned our house from some kind of Repository Of Chaos into a liveable and presentable home ready to welcome guests and children. Z's patience and support during my useless first trimester of Sickness and Wan Laying About On The Sofa is finally paying off in dividends as the nesting instinct kicks in full force. All of yesterday I was like a woman possessed. I threw stuff out, I cleaned sutff, and I did. not. stop. until it was done.
I did however interject A brief Tearful Interlude when I realised that while I was tidying, Z was playing computer games (although to be fair, he had been cleaning with me the previous six hours).
N: No, no no. This isn't right! Stop enjoying yourself and come help me clean!
Z: Do I have to?
N: Yes, you do! Because if I'm tidying and you're gaming it's not fair.
Z: Well what about when I was helping your mother move all by myself and carried endless boxes and bags for days on end? You didn't help then.
N: bursting into tears Because I was pregnant! AND sick! I wasn't in a spa, I was diving my time between feeling wretched and GROWING YOUR CHILD.
Z: I suppose.
N: Seriously, YOU HAVE GOT TO LET THAT GO and stop bringing it up when I'm trying to motivate you to do stuff.
Z: No! I refuse to let it go! It's probably the only moral leverage I'll ever have!