From the TMI Files

I did a whole bunch of errands today, including buying an amazing mirror for over our fireplace, which makes the whole place look better (and bigger, which is very good when dealing with such an itty-bitty place). I even got D to buy some clothes, which is always a struggle as he hates shopping but often laments his meagre wardrobe.

We also went to two baby stores, where he picked out some clothes and did some information-gathering on big ticket items. I've been feeling a bit guilty since I seem to be on a buying bonanza, and wanted him to feel a bit more involved. I actually had a dream last night that I was being chased - it's a common theme in my dreams - I'm running to or from somewhere. Except this dream was a little different because every now and then I'd spot a baby store and I'd take a break from being chased by a crazy person to look at Gymboree consignment clothing. Some not so opaque symbolism there, I think.

Across the street from the second baby store, I was getting into the car, awkwardly maneuvering my unwieldy self between a lamp post and the door. In doing so, I accidentally stabbed my right boob on the corner of the car door. I was clutching my chest in pain when I noticed that I had actually leaked milk onto my shirt. For some reason this made me laugh hysterically. Pregnancy really is a strange and amazing thing. A real live food product being produced by my body! How would you feel, I asked D, if your body just starting churning out hot dogs or something? It's pretty weird. Cool! But weird.