It’s been super cloudy and rainy for what feels like forever around here and it’s just plain old depressing. Throw in a side of pregnancy and who knows what you’ll end up with. You know that old saying don’t cry over spilt milk? Well, I don’t cry about spilt milk, but I might as well.
Last night I thought our house smelled liked Subway (you know the smell… you either love it or hate it. I love it!) so of course today I really wanted Subway. I used the drive-thru so I never looked at my sandwich until I got home. Well, they gave me TUNA. I actually contemplated whether or not I may have ordered tuna in a fog of pregnancy brain, but quickly decided that I would never do that because I really hate tuna. (I don’t eat anything that swims or lives in or around water.) Anyways, David offered to take it back for me and as soon as he left I broke down. Big, crocodile tears, complete with the quivering lip, all because they messed up my sandwich. To top it off, as I was crying I started laughing at myself because of the stupidness of the whole situation! I really haven’t been overly emotional this whole pregnancy and now I’m crying over a sandwich, really? I guess the hormones are kicking it into high gear towards the end, but I still blame it on the weather and the complete lack of sunlight in my life.
So now I just have to try not try cry about a tuna sandwich.