For starters, I have had this horrible head cold for days now. Six days to be exact. And it moves from my sinuses to my chest and back to my sinuses and I hate it. I can hardly breathe as it is, and congestion certainly isn't helping matters. It also hurts like the dickens when I first wake up in the morning and try to swallow. I might as well be trying to swallow shards of glass. I know, I know. I have this lime green paper tacked up to the bulletin board, highlighting "safe meds during pregnancy," but really? "Cool mist humidifier, Robitussin DM and Cepacol" isn't going to do a whole lot for me now. Why even bother? I have a major case of the grumpies.
Those are Sheepie teeth marks. A Sheepie Nibble, if you will. Bad dog, Sheepie. Bad Dog.
Moving forward, I would like to enter another picture into evidence against Bad Dog Sheepie. All I want to do is lay on the couch, catch up on mindless DVR'd television and drink lot's of hot tea, however, Sheepie has other things in mind. Take for example, picture number 3:
That would be the ripped to shreds (and half eaten) order summary from the recent online shopping spree Hubs let me indugle in. I typically never need to return clothes. I've been the same size, give or take five to ten pounds (five to six beers, a few chicken wings or 2 years of heavy drinking in college) since my senior year of high school and therefore, never need to return clothes. Except when ordering maternity shirts from Old Navy. I am not a small. A small pretty much makes me look like a boat. No joke. Therefore, I need to return the six shirts to avoid looking like I'm wearing a muumuu. Thanks for destroying not only my return shipping label, but also my order summary, Sheepie. I'm sure they won't need either of those things when I try to make these returns.
I'm snowed in. I'm pregnant. Like an idiot, I attempted to shovel a bit this morning, in an effort to de-snow my car so that I could think about going into work. My street wasn't even plowed. And god forbid, I be the only house on the block that doesn't shove their 10 feet of sidewalk. I would be shunned for eternity. No jokesies. Let's just say I shoveled for approximately fifteen minutes before I became a wheezing mess, ditched the shovel somewhere in the front yard and crawled back inside.
I am so over this day.