The dishes, they scare me. I swear to god they multiply while I sleep. If I don't watch them, they have baby dishes, and the baby dishes grow up and have babies, and so on and so forth, until my sink, it overfloweth. I'm beginning to have nightmares. Because no matter how many times I run that dishwasher, they just. keep. coming. And I think the dishes are eating the flatware. They're hungry.
To keep their population in check, I've started washing dishes between meals if I know I'm going to eat something in it before too long. Like today, I had pasta in a bowl, and I washed it as soon as I was done, because I knew I'd want ice cream in a little while. I always want ice cream, truth be told. It's The Best Pregnancy Craving Evah, since I seem to be losing weight no matter how much I eat. Bwuahahahaha! Totally worth enduring three months of Puke Central. ... I think. Okay, maybe not, but if I'm going to go through that crap, I better get a benny, damnit.
And I'm pretty sure they're teaching the laundry to do it, too. Hold me, Internetz. I'm scared.
On a more positive note, I'm putting myself on a blogging schedule. Plan to read something from me every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I may have random posts like this one *coughcough* in between, but in an effort to make my life a more structured place -- shut up -- I'll at least put up something mildly entertaining and/or insightful on those days. Barring rampant sickness. Or labor. Because I refuse to amuse you people while I'm hanging over the toilet or shoving something out my lady bits. I'll leave you with that awesome visual. *evil snicker*