Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Farewell to braincells...

You know, I used to be intelligent. I used to be able to tackle multiple tasks without much trouble. I used to be able to interpret simultaneously, hearing a sentence in Language A, translating it in Language B while hearing the next sentence in Language A, taking notes, and looking things up at the dictionary at the same time. Then the unthinkable happened. I got infected by the illness commonly known as Pregnancy Brain.

So I thought I'd make myself useful yesterday, and do some laundry (whites.) I gathered up all the dirty white stuff, carried it downstairs, and thought that since I was doing whites, I might as well throw in the underwear I had on. I grabbed a fresh pair from the drawer and went downstairs to change. (If you are feeling puzzled right now, this is a necessary precaution to keep Domino downstairs -and away from the rabbit- since he has decided he needs to be attached to my leg at all times.)
Well, I strolled downstairs, opened the washing machine door, put all the dirty laundry in, and started the wash. Fed the cat, and suddenly realized that -hey -I don't remember actually taking my trousers off. A quick self-inspection verified that yes, I still had the old pair of underwear on, and I couldn't spot the fresh pair anywhere. Until I checked the washing machine. There it was, a little bright blue blob going round and round in a sea of white and suds. Feeling stupid, I stopped the washing machine, drained the water, went upstairs, got a fresh-fresh-pair-of-underwear, and also picked up some white socks that I had forgoten the first time around, went downstairs again, opened the washing machine door, retrieved the suddy pair of underwear, rinced it, hung it to dry, and restarted the wash. But wait! can it be? I STILL haven't taken my trousers off and... and... I'm not holding the fresh-fresh-pair-of-underwear any more! Yes, the FFPoU had become the second casualty in the war of washing, and the old pair was still proudly holding its ground on...ermm...my crotch. At this point I decided to give up. My already fragile self-esteem couldn't take much more, I was rapidly running out of clean underwear (this was becoming one counter-productive wash!) and I wasn't sure I trusted myself not to stick the cat in the wash next time.

So there you go. Now you've seen me humbling myself infront of you all, plus you've learned more about my underwear than you ever wanted to know. Personally, I blame the increased blood-flow to my uterus. Not enough left for my brain to function, it seems. Those of you that know me and are willing to testify that I could have easily done this kind of thing PP (Pre Pregnancy,) I DON'T WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!! Ok, leave a message if you like, but be gentle. I might kill you and blame the hormones.

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