I like to make lists. And no, this is not the first time I've noticed it, just the first time I've acknowledged it. Lists are fun. I'm not sure when they became fun, but they might have been around the time when a) I became knocked up, b) I got baby-brain while I was knocked up(which is a technical term for losing your fuckin marbles), or c) after I had baby, I had to move, take care of baby, find baby-daddy a job, and research town I was soon to be living in (which happened to be chock full of baby-daddy-relatives).
see? lists can be fun!
anyways, while I was bat shit retardo-girl, my mother gave to me a beautiful grey plastic folder, you know the ones with 57 thousand different compartments in it? and she said, 'it may get hard, but when you've lost it all, at least you'll have this.'
Actually I don't really have a clue what she said to me when she gave me the folder, if she even did, as I was bat shit, like I mentioned before. R-E-T-A-R-D-O.
But as a result of that folder, given to me by who-knows, I grew a great fondness for coming up with lists, writing them just so, and putting them in that folder so they wouldn't get lost. Of course at the time I was too stupid to actually label the compartments on the thing, so it took half an hour to find anything in there, but I always had that folder with me, so I could never say anything was actually "lost."
since then I have an acute liking for making lists, which I usually lose about half an hour after making them, but the magic and fun is still there, so I won't rain on my own parade until the day I actually make a list that has vital importance and then lose it.
another fun preggo story is when I used baby-daddy's head as a target when he decided to take the first sip of a coke I had just poured. (hint- I used the almost-full glass of coke as the dart, it's just good that I have horrible aim) well, I won't go into that one right now. save it for another time when I'm feeling reminiscent.