Busy

Nesting? I’m not entirely sure what that even is, but I can’t really talk about it right now because I have this weird compulsion (and, just as bizarrely, the energy to match) to sort baby clothes into size-specific, labelled drawers and boxes, and to go through Mo’s too-small and too-big clothes and sort them into size-specific and labelled boxes, and to wash the last of the baby wraps and cloths and bedding and fold them and make them their own special cubby hole in the side of the spare room wardrobe now cleared out for baby things, and to sort through all of my clothes and ruthlessly bag all of the things I haven’t worn for the last few years to give away, and to sort through Alan’s clothes (even though, after he watched the zeal with which I tore neglected skirts off coat hangers and threw them into the ‘to go to op shop’ bag, he won’t actually let me near his side of the wardrobe, so I can’t actually act on the urge), and to sort through all of the toys we have and give away anything that Mo’s never actually played with, and to vacuum floors and remove dust from shelves I’ve never noticed before and scrub toilets and clean marks off walls and attack the spider webs on the outside of our house with a broom. Sorry! I’m sure it’ll soon pass; maybe we can chat more about this “nesting” thing next week?