I have come to a conclusion: I am lazy.
I knew this before, of course -- in theory. I may have even admitted it a time or two. But being pregnant and laid out on the couch 80% of the time, I have realized just how lazy I am. I know I need to pick up and vacuum, that's not even up for debate. Laundry was supposed to get done today... yeah, that happened. (snort) I think the only truly "clean" things in my house are the toilets, and that's just because I spend 10% of that extra 20 hugging them and praying for a swift death. (To which I always quickly respond with, "I didn't mean that! Medical coma! Just have someone put me under for 6 months. Please dear god, medical coma!)
Baking? Is so far down the list as to be nonexistent. I actually turned on the oven the other day (instead of making Andrew do it) to make chicken strips for my kids to gnosh on while I wallowed in my misery on the couch. I also managed to make broccoli with a miraculously clean pan. (I did a load of dishes the other day! Go me!) Thank god my kids are (generally) easy to please when it comes to food. My youngest used to have all sorts of "I don't want that, just feed me a baby food, damnit" issues. Do you know how much baby food an 18 month old can go through in a day? Sweet baby Jesus, I thought we'd go bankrupt.
But since my life now consists almost solely of roving the Interweb (shut up, I like my word better) and gracing the porcelain gods with my presence, I figured I should post anyway. "Your regularly scheduled bread baking program will resume... sometime." Or something like that. In the meantime, you can read my snarky comments and laugh at my many creative ways to describe tossing my cookies. (See? There's another one. Ha! I'm on a roll!) ... (Shut up.)