I Am Standing in My Office in a Swimsuit

And it feels wrong. Because it is. Except that I'm pumping, so what's the diff?, what's even less clothing when you're already partially disrobed in your office?, and we're going on vacation soon, so I paid extra for shipping, so I might as well find out now if I have no swimsuit to wear and need to send it back. Thank goodness it fits, but who cares anyway?, because all eyes will be on our supremely cute little muffin with her so-cute-it-should-be-illegal sun hat and mini wetsuit looking thing. The past 2 weeks have been a blur filled with too much working and not enough sleeping, setting the alarm to work at home before Georgia wakes, cramming at the office, coming home to see Georgia and do the bedtime routine, then logging back on for a few hours at night. So it's not exactly a surprise that we were reduced to honey can you please borrow (read: steal) a roll of toilet paper from your office because we're out, and oh, Emily, our Boston (soon Calgary) visitor, I'm sorry your entertainment was watching me draft a contract. But before you go crying for me, remember that there is a light at the end of this tunnel - a big fat ocean and a beach blanket with my name on it. And Joe packed a Special Dark in my lunch today, because he knows I "need" it. And he did the best to make my birthday feel like a birthday last week, even though his surprise dinner plans were ruined. My perennial childhood choices of macaroni and cheese, (turkey) polish sausage, and canned cranberries came through. Oh, and I got a voice mail this morning from my pro bono Katrina victim client in Mississippi, who in the thickest of thick southern accents called me "sweetheart," which cracked me up, because coming from him, it was heartwarming, but from any other client or person here, it'd pretty much be actionable in my book. Anyway, a nice reminder that life's not so bad. If my biggest concern is the fact that my best laid plans for packing in an organized fashion ahead of time will instead be reduced to our usual stuff, stuff, cram, cram, whatever we can just buy it there routine, then I think we're okay. Wow, are you still reading this stream of consciousness? Then you must be my mother, so Mom, go raise your foot up and put some ice on it - you are not supposed to be moving around so much after surgery, you know. xxOO.