Pregnancy makes you do weird stuff. Last week we left for work and left the refrigerator open four inches. For the entire day. And to make it worse, we didn’t come home after work, we went to my mother-in-law’s for dinner. That means our refrigerator’s compressor cranked away for nearly 14 hours that day. I take the blame for that one. I'm the lunch-maker in this house.
Then, a few nights ago, Monica made some homemade banana bread (my mom’s recipe--yum!). At around 9:30 p.m. I went down to grab a drink of water and turn off all the lights when I heard what sounded like the oven kicking on. Yup. The bread was cooling on the counter—had been for about an hour—but the oven was still on. Monica takes the blame for that one.
I’m blaming the pregnancy for both incidents. It couldn’t be our ridiculously busy schedules, the fact that I’m working like mad on my thesis or plain old forgetfulness. No. Never.
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