I knew it would happen.

Remember I told you a few posts ago, that I’d likely feel great after my u/s then talk myself out of it?  Yeah.  I’m there.  I’m terrified again.  My scan is tomorrow, and I’m afraid they’ll tell me something’s wrong, the baby’s not growing, I still don’t really have any symptoms, and that’s the reason why.  Or that it’s happened again.  I want to permanently strap a dil.do-cam in and trail an u/s machine after me so I can see him/her/it at all times.  While this may sound like it has a dual purpose, I can assure you it doesn’t.  Purely for the benefit of my psychiatric health.  At least until I can feel him/her/it moving, then I won’t need it anymore.

My YCU. Bless his heart.

I took him to work this morning.  Yes, on Memorial Day, because his boss is a dick.  They’re trying to make him quit, so they don’t have to pay him his worker’s comp settlement.  YCU thinks they’re going to fire him after he goes back to work.  I keep saying surely not, but I’ve been proven wrong before.  It would happen to us.  Anyway, I got home, and what do I find?  The (used) butter knife laying on top of the (closed) butter container, socks in the kitchen, and he still hasn’t cleaned either bathroom that’s needed it since we got back from vacay.  I had to bug him the other day to pick up the man-panties in the bedroom floor.  I guess one piece of clothing a week is just too much to ask.  When I woke him up (Hi, honey.  Good morning!  Yeah, do you think you could clean the bathrooms and pick up in here a little bit, and if you have time, go to the grocery store today?)  he accused me of waking him up to bark at him.  If I wanted to bark, a whispered “hi, honey” would not have been part of the dialogue.  All of these chores would have taken under 2 hours.  I’m a bit angry that he’s being so inconsiderate and taking me for granted.  I’m thinking of getting a large box and a shovel and burying his clothes in the backyard.