Dead Animals

A few weeks ago, I came home from a business trip and walked in my front door only to be overcome with an urgent need to vomit. Our house smelled like dead fish, or, the scallops Scott had made for dinner. My food aversions have passed, but I'm still not the biggest fan of seafood, especially as a signature scent.

I'm incredibly sensitive about smells in my home, and on top of that my olfactory system is frighteningly keen. Even when I'm not pregnant. So I paraded around with air freshener, choking the shit out of my husband, dog, plants and ultimately myself. But at least it was with clean linen.

Here we are, several weeks later, and I swear I can still smell it. It certainly cannot still be the scallops. I look for it constantly...is it the garbage, the sink, Scott's shoes? Dead animals in the walls? I'm currently convinced that there are thousands of cockroaches decomposing in our walls from our regular extermination. I also think those cockroaches are the re-incarnated souls of murdered civil war mill workers, but that's another post.

The problem is (beyond my own psychosis), no one else can smell it. I feel like a crazy person wandering around my house, sniffing every surface and wall. I just finished reading a book, Broken Harbor, where a man was so convinced there was an animal in his attic that he drove his family insane trying to track it down -- to the point where his wife killed him and his children. I need someone with a good nose to walk around with me and prove to my husband that I do not need to be committed, and prevent myself from a similar fate.

In the meantime, it's candles and La Tee Da lamps. And a "no fish in the house" mandate, strictly enforced.

Always Something

...more to do. And you thought I was going to say "there to remind me". I actually hate that song. Irrelevant, moving on. It's been a busy month. Lots of planes have filled my Monday - Friday, with nursery decorating consuming my weekends. And cleaning, birthday celebrating, bill paying, crafting, name changing, travel planning, among a myriad of other tasks.

Seeing as it's been a while since I posted (yet another thing to do), there's a long list of topics I've mentally stored to shared. Problem is, I can't seem to recall what they were.

Oh wait, there's one. My pregnancy brain. And I thought it was a myth. Let's see -- there was repeating myself in meetings, wearing my underwear inside out three days in a row, leaving a car running while I went to go eat at a restaurant, and my general inability to focus. Such as on this post. I am all over the place.

There's another one. My travels. It was harder to change my name with Delta than it was to get a new social security card. I suppose I should be grateful for the security, but the reality is it only affected my ability to get upgraded and board the plane before the lay people. Speaking of security -- pre-check. God bless pre-check. Shoes stay on, laptops in, and they don't care how much liquid you're packing. The best part? No wave machine, just a simple metal detector. Which means no more pat downs for this lady, even though I was starting to enjoy them.

Everything, and I mean everything, seems to take more to get done and in general there is just more of it. And just when I think I've reached the point of completion, there's another few things to check off the list. Big ones like naming my baby, and small ones like sending a birthday card. Not to mention my 16 hour work days. Awesome.

I've decided I need a personal assistant. But that's why you have kids, right?