. . . or preparing for the apocalypse. I have this fear that once the baby is born neither Jimmy nor myself will be able to visit a grocery store ever again.
To be fair though, there are two loaves of bread in there somewhere that I picked up for my Nana and haven't delivered yet. Once those are out of there it will really free up some space.
I've mentioned before that James hasn't been spouting many gems lately. I think my late third trimester grouchiness has really put him off his game. You know how I know? He volunteered to clean the kitchen tonight. Volun. Teered. As opposed to voluntold.
Luckily, his brother Paul is in town and has provided me with some fodder.
Paul: So Shel, do you find that you're really a lot warmer carrying all that extra fat, I mean body weight, around?
Even Jimmy shot him a look that warned him he may have only moments left to live.
Seeing as Paul lives out of town, the lovely little tidbits he says aren't likely to become a regular feature here at Chez Quinlan, but if that changes, I think I'll call it "Pontifications from Paul".
One can only hope!