This does not bode well.

So, happy due date to me! Not much seems to be happening in uterus-land, unfortunately.

Last night, it was around 11pm and I was bored and not tired (this is rare, I usually go to bed around 10 these days). David pointed out that neither of us had left the house all day, and suggested we go for a short drive. Maybe after that, I'd be tired.

So I agreed. Now here's the good and bad thing about our relationship: I'm kind of a weird, impulsive person. David, if anything, is even weirder and more impulsive (in some ways, anyway). So sometimes the voice of reason and normality is lacking in our relationship.

Which is to say, I grabbed David's cat, Snookums, and said, "Let's bring Snookums!" I was mostly joking. But David said "Yes, let's bring her!"

Now, Snookums, unlike my ill-tempered cat (Masha), is extremely tolerant. She is willing to be carted around by humans indefinitely. Also unlike Masha, she's quiet. If she doesn't like something, it's kind of hard to tell.

So we set off, with Snookums the cat, for a drive.

At first, she sat on David's lap, then I said, "Give her to me!" thinking she might enjoy looking out the window. David handed her over, and she looked out the window...and then my lap began to feel extremely warm and wet.

And, sadly, it was not my water breaking.

So, back home we went, where I threw my clothes in the laundry and myself in the shower, and David cleaned the upholstery in his car.

I felt guilty because I think poor Snookums was scared, and that's why she peed. I didn't mean to torture the kitty in our quest for a mini-adventure. I never would have brought Masha in the car, because she howls on car rides, leading me to believe that she does not enjoy them. Well, I guess now I know that Snookums feels the same way.

I said to David, "Okay, next time we're bored, that's what we won't do."

It's kind of scary that we're about to be responsible for a helpless young human.

Stockpiling provisions, guarding and snarling.

So, with the baby due to arrive in the next 3-6 weeks, I can happily say we basically have everything we need for him. Right now I'm washing all of his blankets, towels, and clothes so they'll be ready to go whenever he is.

I'm not too nervous about taking care of him at this point, but I am sort of irrationally nervous about my own food supply. As I've mentioned before, I find the concept of not leaving the house for several days/weeks to be a scary one. The idea of not being able to go to the grocery store is especially frightening. Yes, I realize I have a perfectly capable partner who is more than willing to go (he even went to the Winn-Dixie today to see if they had tahini - which of course they did not - to see if he could save me a trip to Whole Foods), but a weird voice in my head says "What if he messes it up and I staaaaaaaaaarve?!?"

I'm used to cooking about 95% of the food I eat. Being vegan in the middle of Louisiana, I don't really have much of an option. But I know I won't be able to keep up my shopping and cooking habits immediately after having the baby. And one can only survive so long on Lebanese takeout (much as I love it). So I've started to freeze leftovers in individual portions. Today I plan on making a vat of lentil stew, and I'll freeze whatever we don't eat tonight. Tomorrow I might make red beans and rice.

My struggle to guard my food from the cats has intensified. Though I enjoy cooking, it is definitely a bit of an effort these days. I feed the cats CAT FOOD twice a day...as soon as they see me open my eyes I'm greeted with incessant, desperate meows. When it comes near the time for their evening feeding, they strategically place themselves near me and give me the intense, unblinking cat stare. I will love them, feed them, and allow them backyard access, but I do not want them anywhere near MY food. The fruits of my labor in the kitchen are for the benefit of David, the baby, and ME.

David thinks the cats deserve more variety in their diet, and that it's cute when they beg at the table. I respond to such behavior by scooping up said cat(s), tossing them to the back yard, and finishing my meal while they look at me through the back door with their wide, pathetic, cat-refugee faces. I'm not falling for it. Stay away from my food. Grr.