A few Monday thoughts.
Tonight we are going to see Book Of Mormon, the apparently hilarious and crudely controversial West End production that we've been dying to see forever - and now squeezing it in while we can.
This means I need to go into central London tonight. Oh my goodness. I have been away just over a week and already this is a seemingly huge adventure. What will I be like in a few months time? Or when I have to start commuting there again?
In the meantime, like most South Africans and court oglers today, I am [making a chicken stew] while I watch the Oscar Pistorius trial unravel as it streams from my computer.
Our kitchen is pretty much done! It just needs a paint and a shelf put up, otherwise we are the proud new owners of:
1) an oven so hot that it almost steamed by eyeballs blind while I cooked a roast over the weekend and I opened the oven door;
2) a microwave. Haven't had one of these since I left Johannesburg. I didn't miss it either, truth be told. But now with bottles and sterilisers and convenience being our new best friend, it was time to get one.
3) a DISHWASHER.
Now. I've never owned a dishwasher. Nor did I grow up with one or live in a digs with one. The brief foray into the dishwasher world was when I had to stack and unstack one as an au pair in France.
But hell. What a revolution. Oh my fat, bulging sack. The dishes are so fucking clean. Stacking takes so much less time and effort than actual washing! Now that we have this luxury, I'm not quite sure how we ever lived without one. And herein obviously lies the problem - for without one, we might now surely die from the overspill of a detritus-filled sink.
It is amazing. It makes everything, the building and the waiting and the dust and constant flux of living in a tip, actually worth it.
Check it out. After our kitchen had been ripped out, and while it was being assembled:
Finally, I am 33 weeks this week. If I was carrying triplets, I would be considered ripe for production. Full term. Thank goodness I'm not carrying triplets. (See? It's all about relativity), but I am now in the sort of red alert stage.
Where I am getting up to pee about 8 times now in the night, and shifting in bed entails moving my carefully placed pillows with maximum effort.
I still don't know what - if any - structure my birth will take. I have to wait for my appointment with the obstetrician in 10 days, where he will basically assess whether I try to do this naturally (please may this not be the case - I'm flipping terrified), or whether I can have a c-section.
If my one baby stays breech, that is my only case.