Last week, my friend Anna emailed me to tell me that her parents were cleaning out their house in Hong Kong and had sent her two large boxes of her stuff to sort out. Because I have known Anna since 1987—which is the longest I have known any of my friends and, actually, anyone who is not technically a family member—I was fairly sure I knew where she was going with this, and I was right.
"Pretty much everything in those boxes," she said, "is a letter from you."
Twenty three weeks, as far as I can remember—it happened a whole week ago, which means my new and fuzzy pregnancy brain has little to no memory of it—was fairly unmomentous. The twentysomething weeks, in fact, are whizzing by super quickly in a blur of super-quickness, much like my actual twenties, although I don't even have alcohol as an excuse for it this time.
I feel like we've got to the point where a person can't write a post about the things she likes without someone wondering if it's a sponsored product review, so I just want to say before I begin that this is not sponsored, or a product review, or a sponsored product review. I'm not trying to sell you anything here, I just miss the days when you could read about something you liked on a blog and think "ooh, I think I'd like that thing too!" and maybe go out and buy it, and neither party would feel a little weird about it.
On Sunday afternoon, my cat brought a mouse into the house, which sounds really hilarious and Seussian, I know, but which was in fact totally disgusting.
Oh hey, does this haircut make me look pregnant?
My tummy seems to be getting a little pointy, which a lot of people have told me happens when you're carrying a boy, but which I am far more likely to believe is because I've been eating a lot of those mini Toblerones recently. Because Toblerones are pointy, right? I mean, that totally makes sense.