Slow.

Time is flying but I am not. I move so much slower these days. I can only imagine how I will be moving in one month's time. It's frustrating to need to ask for help at work because I can't move twelve 35lb boxes anymore. If no one is there to help me, I am stuck waiting. And I hate waiting. It's not that I am impatient, it's that I like to move at my own pace, which is generally a little faster than everyone else's. A good example of this: I am perpetually early. I always have been. When I was in high school and I would usher at church on Sundays, I would have to get there by 9:30am, and I was ALWAYS late since I had to rely on my fucking slow ass (ex)step dad to drive me there. I always got to school early, so I would have enough time to goof off, or when I was a senior, enough time to smoke a cigarette across the street and then freshen up in the bathroom before class started. Once I got to college, it was worse. I remember getting to my Painting 1 class and having everything all set up and ready to go by 8 am, even though class didn't begin until 8:30... I was always there before the teacher.

Since I have stopped taking the MBTA to work and have started driving, the only way to not sit in a shit ton of traffic each day is to get to work between 6-6:30 am. The store doesn't open until 8:30, but I always have things to do... unless no one has moved boxes for me the previous day, and then I just have to fuck around or find a few small boxes, or attempt to drag or kick a box down the hall. And then even when I am ready to go, everything just takes longer. I have to stop working so I can pee every half hour to forty minutes. I need more water. Then I need to pee again. Then I need a snack. And another snack. Have to put lotion on my hands from touching cardboard all morning. Have to listen to my coworkers talk about things that I just don't care about.

It's all bugging me.
And now I am at home, and there is still quite a bit to organize and straighten and find homes for, but here I am moving slow, too. I get overheated. I need to pet the cat. My sister calls. I need to sit down. I need second breakfast, and then early lunch, and then lunch dessert. I just can't move as quickly, now that I am carrying around so much extra weight.

I just want things to be done. I want to find a dresser/changing table for the baby room. I want to find a home for all the guitars. I want the turtles to stop fighting and just eat their damn fish. I want to find my muffin pan so I can make cupcakes and eat three of them. WHO LOSES A MUFFIN PAN? Apparently me.

Wow. That was all a big long whine. Sorry about that. On a good note, I can now SEE my stomach move when I feel the baby move. Fucking WEIRD and COOL and totally like a science project.