Sometimes

Sometimes I'm not the smartest duck in the pond.

Sometimes I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Sometimes my elevator doesn't reach the top.

Sometimes...I'm pretty stupid.

I read a lot of bed rest community websites, but have yet to join in.  I read because it soothes my winey soul, it gives me the cheese I need, it provides me with my mini-violin.  I don't join because I'm a red personality and I can take bed rest standing up.  Wait...

So I read a post the other day about an OCD clean mother, on bed rest with her third for contractions (sound familiar) and who saw the inside of the bath tub.  She lost it.  She adopted the, "I'll show him," mentality which is never good for a woman on bed rest.  Trust me.  I know.

So she scrubbed that tub.  And while she was down there, she scrubbed the toilet.  And while she was down there, she scrubbed the floor.  And while she was down there, she went into labor.  At 30 weeks.

But what I read is, "If I can clean my bathroom, you can get off your lazy butt and do some good, too."

So I seperated dirty laundry, hung up clean laundry, put away folded laundry, and cursed the ever mounting piles of laundry.  When the contractions were coming between every folded sock, I stopped.

Then I came out here and wrote this post.

And you're wishing I didn't.

But I still have laundry, and  you're still reading this post.

We don't all get what we want.

Kelly Down (I swear)