Why I am furious

After my wonderful dream of babies and winning the lottery things went downhill. I puttered around the house with a feeling of....not dread, but melancholy, which I chalked up to too many hours by myself on a daily basis, the knowledge that Jim isn't going to be home until late tonight because of a work party that spouses aren't invited to (I could write a whole other blog rant about THAT custom) and the fact that, for the second time in a week, I had to take a large suitcase full of laundry down to the laundromat because our washing machine is still broken. I should have done what I felt in my gut, which was to stay at home in my pajamas, enjoying the company of my cats and considering whether or not I was going to clean the house.

But, alas, I made the wrong choice and loaded up my giant suitcase with laundry, put on my favorite North Face fleece jacket and schlepped down to the laundromat.

Yesterday, I filled the same suitcase with items for the charity store and dragged it down to the charity shop, which is approximately half a mile from our house. On the way, plenty of people saw me, an obviously pregnant woman, struggling along with this suitcase, but no one offered to help. Today, the second day in a row of life with the giant suitcase, I got about three blocks before I was too warm for my fleece jacket, so I hung it over the suitcase and continued on my way. As I made my way up West End towards the laundromat, people observed me having trouble maneuvering the cumbersome suitcase, but, again, no one offered to help. Then, people had the nerve to act ANNOYED that they actually had to share the sidewalk with me and my giant suitcase. I mean, heaven forbid that you have to MOVE to one side for a pregnant woman with her giant suitcase or wait five seconds while she figures out how to get it on the curb.

About an hour later, I realized that my fleece had not made it to the laundromat with me. Having completely lost faith in London humanity by that point, I really doubted I would ever see it again, but sometimes in our neighborhood people pick up lost articles of clothing and drape them on walls or over bushes so that if the owner comes back he or she can reclaim the item. I have to say that I've seen this done with baby clothes, tights (I think you would have to be pretty drunk or passionate to lose your tights on an evening out), shoes, pants, shirts...but, alas, not with my nice, favorite, Northface fleece jacket, currently the only warm thing that was either not too big or too small for me.

So here I am, home again, cold and feeling like people in London can be total assholes sometimes.

More vivid pregnancy dreams

Last night I dreamed that we had twin boys (which would be a total surprise--I'm pretty sure there's only one in there) and that Jim won 15 million pounds with a lottery ticket! That's the fourth dream I've had about having a boy baby (so far the only girl baby dream has been the disturbing floating head one). It will be interesting to see how things turn out in reality. I'm definitely not counting on Jim winning 15 million pounds...