I seem to be losing my mind. Seriously, I do. Recently I've been doing a variety of obscure and dangerous things (leaving the grill on and walking away for an hour, forgetting to lock the front door, putting cheese in the washing machine etc). Last night I came within an inch of washing my face with femfresh. I actually went into the bathroom cupboard, picked up the femfresh and was poised, ready to wash. Good god.

TERRITORIAL GROWLINGS

We have developed a theory as to why Alex's Mom keeps driving me up the wall. She's too close to my nest. I do really like her...but for some reason at the moment every time she mentions decorating, babies or Alex, all of my metaphorical bristles go up and I start baring my teeth and growling at her. In my head, anyway.

Alex has managed to reign her in about the damned conservatory now, which is a good thing , but she's now 'taking an interest' in our plans for the rest of the house. We picked up some paint samples for the nursery yesterday and she asked to have a look. So we showed her.
Dee: "Oh...I thought you'd go for something more pink than that"
Me: "No, the more pink stuff seemed a little headache-making. These ones are nice."
Dee: "So you want a pink room?"
Me: "Well, something a bit girly."
Dee: "This paint is more purple"
Me: "That's because it's lilac"
Dee: "Are you doing the room in two different colours? What are you doing for your feature wall?"
Me: "Two colours means two tubs of paint which could get a bit pricey. So probably all one colour."
Dee: "Hmm. OR...you could get some of that pigment stuff that the woman on the interior design show uses so that you only have to buy one lot of paint and then you add pigment so that one wall is slightly darker. That could look quite striking."
Me: (preparing to answer)...-
Alex: Anyway....(skillfully changes subject)

It's good that he jumped in - I think he sensed me growling under my breath. She's going to be very disturbed when she finds out that Alex has relented on the "two colours costs too much" campaign and has discovered a way that we can have one wall different for cheapness...so we're having pink and lilac. It'll all be a bit too much for her. He's also said that we can have an aubergine wall in the bedroom (yay!), which will no doubt hurt her brain.

Yes. Things. Other things. Right. Yes.

Ooh, I also got all mental when I heard her discussing ideas for the garden with Alex... It sounded like she was coming up with a horrible intricate old-lady type design, talking about flower borders and apple trees. I sat in the bedroom listening for a while...until I could bear it no more, bursting out to join them at the window, imaginary fur all puffed up, saying "...as long as we have an expanse of grass to play on - no fiddly trees or anything in the way, and I want there to be enough room for a swing set and the back corner is going to be a little hideout". She didn't seem to like this too much. But MY GARDEN! GET AWAY!! GET AWAY!!

I've also been doing the territorial crap when she makes plans for Alex - if she says to him "I'll pick you up on Saturday and we can go to the chemist then to homebase and then to your Nans" (all perfectly reasonable), I want to start beating at my chest and bellowing "MY HUSBAND! MINE! ALEX BELONG TO KATE NOW!!"

What the hell is wrong with me?

GYNO-CAT

Firstly, I would like to emphasise that I am VERY CLEAN. Well, you'd guess I pay attention to personal hygiene otherwise the near miss 'femfresh' incident wouldn't have occured. My lady bits are clean. I have no embarrassing problems. Nothing. I don't smell. Trust me - I'm so weird about bodily odours that I make Alex check, just in case I do (intimacy...it's so beautiful).

So. I can only conclude that pregnancy is leading to me giving off some smell that only our more primitive companions (aka the cats) are aware of...seeing as Carrott has turned into a gynaecologist. He keeps getting into bed with me in the morning, fidgeting his way down under the covers...and then I become aware of whiskers on my thighs. And sometimes a little cold nose. This weirds me out like nothing else and, obscurely, makes me feel like I'm a pervert...when quite clearly it's the cat who has the problem.

I can just imagine him under there with a torch and a speculum...Louisa did an impression of gyno-cat (in the pub no less) which began with the words "Claws are retracted, madam..."

Oh so disturbed by the cat.

HANNIBAL LECTER NOSE

My nose is amazing. Go go gadget nose. I've developed SUPERNOSE.

Allow me to explain.

I've been acutely aware of all smells for a while now, which has been upsetting Alex greatly (he can't get away with smoking any more). I can smell a dog farting from a mile away. Well, maybe not that good. I could probably smell a KFC or a creme egg from a mile away though.

But anyway. The other day Alex came home and I told him that, not only had he smoked, he'd smoked a different brand of cigarette. I am Hannibal Lecter..."usually you smoke Marlboro...but not today...no, today you smoked B&H..."

Creepy.

Put me in a cage now before I eat somebodys face.

A WORD TO THE WISE...

Don't put the words 'glorious', 'thrill', 'flashing' and 'scarlet' into a search engine when you've got everything projected on a 5ftx5ft screen in front of a room full of students. You're asking for trouble.

Poor guy was only trying to demonstrate how easy it is to detect plagiarism using nothing more sophisticated than a search engine, and he accidentally came across this, (careful - contains 'adult' content...in other words IT'S RUDE AND HAS PICTURES OF LADYGARDENS AND THINGS...oh, shield my innocent eyes...)

I felt so sorry for him...he had no idea why all of us (yes, including the apparently more mature members of the group) started tittering...we were all transfixed by seeing "self-spanking was in full swing" and "I particularly enjoyed flashing my pussy at men" pop up on the screen while he carried on talking about linguistics, oblivious to the filth behind him.

A NEW CAT SONG

Remember ages ago I realised I kept singing songs to the cats? I've just become aware of a new one:
-- "Pinknose...you're the pinknose..." to the tune of the Flintstones. Oh dear.

OOH IT'S ALL GETTING A BIT CLOSE NOW...

YOU CAN HUG ME, BUT PLEASE DON'T LICK MY EARLOBES.


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