Once upon a time there was a pregnant woman who moved house and then had a 50 hr. work week. That sums up my week. But it's been pretty good, despite tiring (and painful at moments...like right now).
So, last Friday I packed up my kitchen (when I say "I", I mean, James, Tracy the amazing, and I), drove it 5 minutes, and unpacked it. The next day, we ("we" meaning James and other helpful man-friends, Hilary, Mom and Tracy the amazing again) treated the rest of our belongings in like manner. The move went pretty well, from my perspective, which was mostly as a box-director and unpacker. Then, Sunday, I worked a 12 hr shift. All-in-all, perhaps one of the busiest weekends of my life. Have I mentioned that I'm 33 weeks pregnant (Speaking of which, one of the baby websites that provides a count-down to your due date just told me that I should have a baby in 45 days. FORTY-FIVE DAYS!!! Yikes.)?
This week has been craaaazy. I have done a poor job of managing the schedule for the two separate parts of my job (group home/teaching), which resulted in me realzing on Tuesday that I was scheduled to work over 50 hrs, which is not allowed. Also, we had carpet installed on Tuesday (yay!), but up until then we were sleeping in the living room, surrounded by boxes of stuff. Bedroom finally moved on Wednesday, which was excellent (and BEAUTIFUL!). After two years of waking up to the ugliest wallpaper known to mankind, it has been SO nice to wake up to a pretty room. With nice squishy carpet on the floor. And a bathroom a mere 10 feet down the hall, rather than on the other side of the house (although my old neighbours may miss the naked dash through the living room and kitchen that I made an a regular basis; I never have been good with curtain-closing).
Think living with an over-scheduled, pregnant, just-moved-and-living-out-of-boxes woman sounds like fun? James would tell you otherwise. It seems that even a saint has limits, as I discovered at about 10:45pm Wednesday night when he firmly declared "I'm going for a walk." Oops. Note-to-self: learn when to shut it (my mouth, that is).
James took packing tape and flyers saying "LOST: House Cat" with him on his walk. Our cat, who has always come and gone as he pleased, left Saturday morning from the new house and has yet to return. I'm feeling sad and guilty and like a bad pet-owner. In my defense, last time we moved, he found the new place no problem, so I just assumed that, 2 years later, he'd still be as smart. A couple people have tipped us off to look-alike cats, but Monty has yet to appear. We've also checked the old house daily, as it's not that far away. I think some well-intentioned person, wooed by Monty's good looks, adopted him. Which is better than something bad happening to him, but makes me sad to think about 'cause it's less likely that I'd get him back, if that's the case.
Today has been the first day this week that I didn't have to be anywhere before 4, which is when I was scheduled to work. I've done some laundry, some unpacking, made the living room look like a living room, and had my sister over for lunch, which was all good. I'm supposed to be working 4-11 tonight, but at about 2:30 I turned and had a sudden awful pain shoot down my back and leg. I've had managable sciatica for the past couple of weeks, but this doesn't fall under that heading. I pretty much couldn't walk. Called into work, said, if I really need to, I could come in, but probably wouldn't be much help. They called in a staff from another house, but it's not an ideal night to not have familiar staff. My manager was going to make some more phone calls, and let me know in a half hour...that was an hour ago. So, I'm sitting, wondering whether or not I should try to get comfy for the night or gear up to go to work.
So, that's my week, in a nutshell. Lots has happened, and most of it has been good, but, man, will I be glad when my 12 hour shift is over tomorrow night...(and when I can walk again).
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