I can’t decide if this should be filed under the definition of psychotic or nesting. Because it involves the scrubbing of shampoo bottles.
Yes, that’s right. I cleaned my SHAMPOO BOTTLES.
Back story: I tend to clean the shower when I’m in the shower (I’ll let you marinate on that visual for a moment) because it’s my least favorite chore EVER. Seriously. HATE. But proof that Satan does exist, our shower is the most disgusting place in the entire house. It’s a breeding ground for mold orgies. I’ve tried EVERYTHING — scrubbing with Clorox. Those daily shower sprayers. Running the fan constantly. Keeping the window to the bathroom open to let in sunlight, therefore giving the neighbors a nightly peepshow — but I was willing to do it FOR THE GOOD OF THE SHOWER.
**side note that I will take any suggestions on keeping said hell mouth clean…I have been pointed towards Bar Keep’s Friend & shall try that this weekend**
& last night, after a glorious day of scrubbing the house with my dear friend Lala, I hopped into the shower & put the icing on the house cleaning cake — shower scrubbing. Except by this point, I was in crazy-pregnant-nesting-cleaning-mode, and spent 30 minutes spraying & wiping every. single. square. inch of fiberglass. & just when I was going to call it a day, I realized that THERE WAS MOLD ON THE SHAMPOO BOTTLES. Playground for mold orgies, remember? So I sigh, grab my handy-dandy Clorox bottle & sponge, & go to town on the shampoo bottles. BECAUSE GOD FORBID I BRING MY SON INTO A HOUSE THAT HAS DIRTY SHAMPOO BOTTLES. I scrubbed the snot out of some Herbal Essence, y’all.
& after I replaced the bottle of “Body Envy” back on the shelf, I looked down..and screamed, “OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?” Is that my…MUCUS PLUG?!
Oh, sweet baby Jesus in a manger. ::faint::
It’s this yellow….glob at the bottom of the shower. I know, I’m wanting to vomit just typing it out. & right when I’m about to panic & cry for Nate, I decide to make sure this is the plug before sounding the alarms. So I get down on all fours & I’m all up close & personal with this disgusting, revolting slime on my shower floor….& I realize that it’s NOT my mucus plug. Praise God.
No, it’s a slimy mold orgy that slid off the shampoo bottle. Like a compound for polygamous mold marriages led by a creepy old man. Zion Ranch, mold style.
I’ll give you a moment to lose your cookies appropriately.
So moral of the story, I have entered psychotic nesting mode. My shower belongs in Texas or Utah. & I still have my mucus plug because I have the CERVIX OF STEEL at 39 weeks with zero dilation & a wee bit of effacement.
Ironic that after having “sensitive cervix” stamped all over my charts since November 2008, I have a mucus plug that goes by the name of Clark Kent.
