The painters are doing smelly things in my house that my husband assures me (in horrified tones) involve "organic solvents," and I am not allowed in the house.  At all.  My husband is over-protective but he has a point – some of the paint they are stripping is of uncertain vintage – so I can go along with being exiled.  Today is one of those great Chicago summer days where it's barely 80 and not humid, so spending the day in the porch swing isn't terrible. 

It was daunting earlier, when my digestive system was diarrhea-ish, and I wasn't sure how far I could stray from the facilities.  But after a gigantic peppermint tea at the new and chic coffee shop I am feeling almost normal.   I'm ashamed to say I played the pregnant card here in the coffee shop when they didn't want to ice my peppermint tea.  When I said "It's just that I'm (sotto voce) pregnant and I'm not feeling so hot…" that seemed to do it.   Sigh.  I used to hate people who did that, tried to get special treatment for being pregnant.  Isn't being pregnant enough for you people?  Apparently not.

I'm enjoying my husband's over-protectiveness more now that I'm halfway through watching "Knocked Up."  The scene where Ben runs outside in the earthquake (with his giant bong) leaving pregnant Allison to struggle through the wreckage on her own is pretty sad.  I'm sure he'll end up being transformed into Dad (and possibly Boyfriend) of the Year, it's not hard to see where this movie is headed.  But that part, and fabulous weather, is helping me accept my exile. 

I'm surprised at how much I like these Judd Apatow-ish movies, "40-Year Old Virgin" and now "Knocked Up."  There is a sweetness to the un-preachy family values theme, there amidst the raunch, that is surprising.

I must enjoy my exile.  Drifting in the city, where there are cute restaurants and coffee shops and dozens of places beckon for the wasting of time, is a thing I won't get to do once we move.   And probably not much when the baby comes, although all those mommies clogging up Starbucks with their strollers apparently are managing it. 

Edited to add:  OMG there is a very pregnant woman in here right now complaining about her latte (she didn't want milk in it…. ?) who looks so much older than me I can't even believe it.  I am so excited.  I would snap her picture with my cellphone if I had the nerve but she is a little bit scary.  Woo hoo!  I feel suddenly younger than springtime.

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