Nothing to Write About

I just complained to hubby dearest that I had nothing to write about, because who wants to hear about what I'm thinking about?

No one, that's who. But I'm writing it anyway so suck it.

I mean, who wants to hear about how the dog's incessant, unfounded whining to go outside in this crazy heat is driving me crazy, as is his nonstop private parts licking, and how the cat won't stop stealing his bed which just leads to more whining.

I don't even want to hear about that stuff.

And who wants to hear about how I REALLY want to go buy some new clothes because I am so majorly over the two skirts, one pair of yoga pants and two shirts I have that are actually suitable to wear in public (and the yoga pants only make the list because by public I mean at prenatal yoga class). Or how I am a teensy bit concerned that the non-maternity tops I've been stretching over my belly are actually now ruined for good. Also, I am tired of flip flops and low-heeled sandals.

No one except maybe occasionally me wants to hear about my made up schedule of wake up, take homeopathic tabs, get up, maybe go on a walk, putter around, maybe make smoothies while hubster gets ready for work, take my iron and orange juice, say goodbye to hubster, explain to the dog that he doesn't need to lie next to the door because hubster isn't coming home in twenty minutes, clean up the smoothie-making materials, drink said smoothie, fill up water bottle, play a game on the computer, make some toast and refill water bottle, check email and other necessary Web sites, check the pet's water bowls, pee (for what will seem like the tenth time already), shuffle around papers on the table and counter, balance checkbook, glance at the clock to see if it is time for lunch, realize it isn't and try to think of something to write on this blog...

Yawn. Maybe a nap will help wile away the hours.

One good thing about today is that it is Thursday, so hubster won't have to go into the office tomorrow and I will have someone around to talk to who actually speaks English, rather than trying to get some sort of meaningful conversation out of the furry, four-legged members of our family.