The Day After June 20
When I last posted, I was 37 weeks pregnant, incredibly uncomfortable, and very warm. I questioned the validity of doing the pregnancy thing another whole 3 weeks, then rationalized that it was better since we would get to move and kind of get settled in before the baby got here. Um, WRONG. So. WRONG. That afternoon I felt "weird" (obviously I wasn't in labor- I had just gone to the doctor on Wednesday and they said everything looked great, see you next week.). So I went by the house, where one of the workers outright told me I should go put my feet up, then I went home, called Matt, and told him I was skipping my workout and just hanging out. He went to the house that night and started painting, but called me around 10, saying he was coming home. Also, he said he was exhausted (obviously neither of us knew how to define that word at the time) and he would work on painting the next night. WRONG. So. WRONG. So he came home, and walked in the door, and came to