Yoga last night was hardcore. Today I am a cripple. He pounded the dragon crawl, which is somehow one of those poses I could always kind of do without trying (and without knowing how, which probably means it doesn't count). The rest of the class got a 'The pregnant woman is doing it better than all of you! Stop complaining!' for their troubles. Lucky he wasn't watching my half-arsed ardha bhujangasanas later on. The pregnant lady was definitely doing some cheating trickery there. Water aerobics tonight was a nice recovery, except the downside of 45 weightless minutes seems to be 4 very freaking heavy hours. I feel like I weigh a ton in comparison to pool-me. The bean seems to like it, though. Then again, the bean seems to like pretty much everything, if we're taking somersaults as enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, another installment of weird shit that happens to me... Yesterday I was walking back to my desk from the bathroom, rubbing my belly as I am prone to doing, when I felt a hard little nugget in the shelf under my heaving bosom. I thought maybe it was bits of clothing not sitting right, but when I hoicked up my t-shirt in order to see what was going on, a GREAT DIRTY MOTH flapped off the top of my skirt and skittered away. What the fuck? How did it get there? How had I not noticed it in the three hours (and at least that many toilet trips) since I got dressed? Either someone's pulling a Silence of the Lambs number on me, or the baby brain has reached new lows. I spent all Sunday hanging up clothes that had previously been living on the floor as well, so it's not like mothy had time to get settled in the wardrobe. At least I managed to keep the jittery flapping panic to a minimum and there were no corridor witnesses that I am aware of. WEIRD SHIT.
I bought Sufjan Stevens tickets today for Jan 31. Optimistic? First babies are usually late, right? It'll be fine. And if I do go into labour at the State Theatre, at least I'll have a story to tell.