is killing me.
In an hour and a half, give or take, we'll find out if the baby's a boy or a girl. I've been fine for about fifteen weeks, and now I HAVE TO KNOW. Even this morning, I was feeling totally patient. Not any more.
I need to get moving, and be productive, or I'll go crazy.
So I'm going to go wash some dishes and straighten up the living room.
I'm meeting Bob at the doctor's office in an hour and a half. I'm sure I can come up with an hour and a half's worth of work...
Maybe I'll go check the status of the chimney rebuild, or water in (again) my newly transplanted peonies. Or drive myself crazy online by looking up girls' and boys' names, and girls' and boys' bed sheets, etc.