We tour birth units in the hospital now. We go to estate planning seminars so that if we die people will know what to do with our (still very much unborn) child. We have long conversations about mortgages and home repair priorities.
Life got busy.
We went over to the house today on Carl’s lunch break to take pictures and begin to document all the cosmetic repairs. It was both reassuring (the dining area is bigger than I remembered) and overwhelming (the back gutters are falling off? Why are there random holes in the wood floor? Was this a doorbell unit at one time, and even if it wasn’t how much is it going to cost now to patch the wall and get this box of wires removed?).
I’m not saying I would rather lie around all day reading Agatha Christie’s memoirs or rambling online about issues, but the house/baby thing can be sort of yawn-making to anyone not personally immersed in the drama. And I feel sort of too busy to have really uppercase Thoughts about anything else, you know?
I’m guessing you do.