the stretch

Last night K. and I stayed up late watching two (TWO!) bad Angelina Jolie movies into the wee hours of the morning.  This was after a lovely dinner with friends and before waking up for coffee and pastries and working in my office for a few hours.  And now, having caught up on my favorite medical melodramas (Private Practice and Grey’s Anatomy), I am wondering what to do next.  I’m almost – almost – bored with my life.

If we had a child, that list would be much smaller — or, perhaps, just much much different.  And instead of sitting here on a lovely bright Saturday afternoon, I would be entertaining a little person.

I know, if things keep moving the way they are moving, this is the last stretch of time that I won’t be a mom.  This time next year I’ll be all pregnant (holy mother of gawd, I hope so), and we’ll be living in a different place (goodness, never thought I’d move further south), and I will be actually experiencing all the things I long to experience.

It’s like the seventh inning stretch.

In a game with 9,000 innings.  C’mon battah, battah, battah.