The construction project we call home.

The weirdest thing happened tonight. I was at home, minding my own business, and the next thing I knew I was vacuuming. Vacuuming! Anyone who knows me knows I am no domestic engineer. I absolutely hate cleaning. Especially vacuuming. But here's what happened:

My feet grew in both directions during my pregnancy. Now, sixth months after evicting Hannah from my womb, I have finally surrendered to the fact that the majority of my old shoes aren't going to fit anymore. So a few days ago my sister came over and I bequeathed her a large sum of shoes. That small-footed wench. I kid, I kid. But it was really hard for me to let go of some perfectly good boots and heels. Some I've only worn once. Ouch.

After ridding my closet of some serious shoe action, I finally had visibility to the formerly shoe-covered carpet, and I was disgusted. It had gotten incredibly dusty and there were some serious Benson dog tumbleweeds all over. Then I realized there was an air vent amidst the dusty dog hair tumbleweeds, and suddenly I thought about how Hannah was sleeping so sweetly in her bed probably gagging on dander particles and little evil dust weasels. AGH! I couldn't have it. Absolutely couldn't have it. Before I knew it, I had a vacuum going and I was sweating. And then I vacuumed beyond the closet into the bedroom. And then I was on all fours scrubbing baseboards. And then the vacuum let out a big cloud of dust in our bedroom because I don't know how to operate cleaning mechanisms. So I gave up.

It's funny how that little babykins changes my reaction to things. Sadly, without her, I probably wouldn't have been so concerned with the dust creature living in my closet. I know, it's gross. And actually my house is mostly tidy for someone who doesn't like to clean. But I certainly wouldn't have gone into panic and feverish vacuum mode.

I do a lot of things now because I want to save her from all harm. I used to gently remove spiders from my home and take them outside because I felt like a real asshole killing them, but now they are a threat to my daughter's well-being and they have invaded my turf. Squish. I also wash my hands to the point of skin crackle.

I'm currently panicking about several things going on in my home. Jason and I have a tendency to always want to change our environment, so as we speak we have uprooted the carpet in the dining room (Benson thought it would make a nice bathroom for awhile there) and are installing hardwood, our master bath had a leak so the walls have been removed and Jason is preparing to fix it, and our basement has been in the process of being finished for about, oh, three years now. I am so ready to be done with all of it. However, knowing us we will immediately begin another renovation. Of course I'm freaking out because Hannah's life is in jeopardy via construction dust particles, fiberglass insulation pieces, rogue nails, and so on. I am so tired from manual labor and yet I cannot sleep because of paranoia. Se la vie.