Nervous eye-twitches and vice-like neck and shoulder tension with roots in unemployment notwithstanding, I'm rather enjoying not having gainful employment. I'd make a grand housewife. It has taken me awhile to start getting the hang of things again -- routines, you know, schedules -- because back when I had a job and a cleaning lady, these things were peripheral. Now it's different; now this is my job. And I quite relish it. It's exhausting and sometimes complicated and does have the unfortunate tendency to make me sweat more than my day jobs have, historically; lugging a 22-pound child, a diaper bag, and myself up two flights of stairs to get to the car park, or lugging said child and two loads of laundry a quarter-mile up the walkway to the laundry room, or just going up and down the stairs all day -- well, I do end up mopping my brow more than I'd like. I sweat at the drop of a hat anyway, so you can imagine. Anyway, that aside, I love it. The last time I felt this close to Luke, he was kicking me awake one night towards the end of the second trimester. It turned out my blood sugar was very low and I had not woken up on my own for it. I had some juice; he settled down; we went back to sleep.
In other news, do not believe Blockbuster Video, as they lie. Firstly, they lie when they say, "No late fees! Ever!" or whatever their line is. What they ought to say is, "No late fees! But if you keep the film for more than two weeks, you owe us its full price. Which, erm, we will promptly refund as soon as you actually do return the film." To which I say, "Why not just use Netflix?" Secondly, they supposedly guarantee that any film you might possibly want to see is available online. Thusly was I hoodwinked into signing up for a free two-week Blockbuster Online account. When, as previously mentioned, my mother rented season two of House for me at her local Blockbuster, it came to our attention that said branch did not have season one in stock. Had never, in fact, had it in stock. Enter the wretched trial membership. I go online, I input all my information, I solemnly make a pact with myself not to forget to cancel in two weeks' time, and finally!, at last, comes the bit where I get to select my DVDs. Season one of House, it turns out, does not exist as far as Blockbuster is concerned. Not available.
Having cancelled my ten-minute trial membership in disgust, I continue to field emails from Blockbuster, emails which aim to tempt me back into membership. "Are you sure?" they ask coyly. Oh, I'm sure, I say, dryly.
Why not just use Netflix? Presumably because I'm an idiot. The truth: I could not remember our password, and I repeatedly forgot to ask my husband what it was. Tonight, however... tonight! Tonight I remembered. Tonight season one has been ordered.
Just in time, too, seeing as there will be no new episodes until January 9. My family and friends will be relieved, as I'd told them all -- rather darkly, I might add -- that Netflix just had to have season one.
"It's either that or heroin," I said. And I think they believed me.