I've been pulling off vent covers and vacuuming inside them. Using an old tooth brush to scour any dust that isn't sucked away.
It's funny how fixated I become on areas of my home that are only ever cleaned when we are about to have a baby. As I move the fridge and stove and scrub the walls and floors behind and beneath I am reminded of the last time I did this task. Two years ago. It shows. I make a mental note to do this task more often.
There are projects I would like to tackle. Things in my mind that I can't quite silence. My vehicle. It's big. It needs to be cleaned. It's too hard for me to do most of it. I can't maneuver in all of its spaces. I got stuck half way between the middle and back seats a few weeks ago. I don't intend to try that again.
The kids rooms. They're mostly picked up - with a touch of chaos. A desk FULL of projects and project making paraphernalia. Beds being held up by the toys shoved underneath.
I worry about how it will get done.
But then, this nesting thing seems to be contagious. My girl organizes her art supplies. My boy removes several toys from his collection that he wants to sell at a rummage sale next summer. My husband wakes up this morning determined to clean out the cars...and I didn't even ask....he's even cleaning the carpets. Removing seats. Washing. Waxing.
There is even talk about vacuuming the basement.
So, today, I'll be sitting with my feet up eating Butterfingers.
And trying to go into labor.
By eating Butterfingers.