Oh, the joys of pregnancy!
My work computer now has a foot wide "No Drink" zone around it. Something about carrying a baby has brought on a severe case Teh Clumsy (The Clumsy, if only my fingers worked to type it properly).
Based on my twitter conversations about this, I'm not alone. Phew! But it's perplexing. In the past week I almost: lost contact with my right leg and fell right off a curb while getting into the car, tripped down the brick stairs at Pioneer Courthouse Square, and fell out of bed. FELL OUT OF BED. And those are just the "almosts".
I've successfully managed to dump coffee all over myself, my jacket, and my car's seat (just this morning in the work parking lot). I Chuck Norris'ed a cup of water right off the coffee table. And I declared this past Saturday "No More Bending Over To Pick Things Up Day" (the poor husband) because everything I touched slipped out of my confused fingers and landed squarely on the floor, becoming a bit of a "OHHH. IS THAT FOR ME? IS IT? IS IT?!" game for the mutt.
Speaking of the mutt, we've started harassing her feet, tail, and ears; gently, but persistently.. in the hopes that she'll get good and used to it by the time this little one can crawl and pull.
Harley's least favorite activity involves me touching her feet. This is the dog, mind you, that was politely told (not asked) to take tranquilizers the next time she goes to the vet for nail trim.
Harley's second least favorite activity apparently involves my KGW Storm Team umbrella that Matt Zaffino gave me. I came home yesterday and realized it was still damp. Now these umbrellas have a little push button on them and when you hit it something akin to an air-bag explosion takes place. That umbrella is open and ready to serve faster than Google Chrome can load a web page.
I scared Harley half to death when I hit that button. One minute, my dog is eyeballing me.. praying to her doggie god that a) I drop whatever that thing is in my hand and b) that it's made of bacon and POOF: the next minute her eyes open wide as the black thing explodes and that was all she wrote, folks. That dog bolted into the whole other part of the house, nails skidding on the hardwood, and refused to come anywhere near that open umbrella. I finally moved it to another room on the far end of the house, which involved me repeating the "Traumatic Opening of the Umbrella". She spent the next hour glued to my side.. absolutely glued.. because as far as she was concerned that thing was definitely not made of bacon and just might come back to kill us all and she was not going down alone.
There you go. The world is not made of bacon. I'm clumsy. And Matt Zaffino gave my dog nightmares.