I love Anne Taintor's edgy vintage-with-a-twist creations. My fridge currently sports several of her magnets, although I don't actually own the design above. Somehow "disabled" seems too harsh a description of my reluctance to ardently pursue domestic prowess. After all, I'm great at laundry and meal management, and I'm a pretty decent cook. No, I prefer to think of myself as domestically disinclined. It's not that I lack skill; it's just that I lack the will.
So thank the heavens for that fabulous, wondrous, blessed phenomenon known as nesting. In the last four weeks I've gotten more housework done than in the previous nine months. Combined. I've sewn curtains for the baby room, cleaned carpets, scrubbed the kitchen floor, hand quilted a baby quilt, and kept ahead of the dishes. And I cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Including scrubbing down the shower.
Maybe I need to get knocked up more often.
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