16 more days.
16 more days of work.
16 more fantastically exciting days of workworkworkedywork before I pack up my crap and head off into the sunset for whatever amount of rest and relaxation I can squeeze in before Bug is born. (of course, I know that may amount to very little time or no time at all depending on when she decides she's blowing that popsicle stand I call my uterus but that isn't dampening my enthusiasm one little bit.)
Am I excited about the prospect of some time off before tackling motherhood? YOU BET YOUR ASSES I AM! I always knew I would be excited by the prospect of a bit of time off and then the 1 year I can spend getting to know my firstborn but there aren't even words to describe how effing excited I am. Really, at this point, it feels like I'm 6 years old and I'm counting down to Christmas. Every day, I cross off a day on my calendar with all the excitement of a kid getting to take yet another chocolate out of the Advent Calendar.
I'm looking forward to sleeping in, watching tv, taking walks anytime I want, reading, reading, reading, and then folding and refolding all Bug's cute little clothing while chatting happily away to her in my belly without any fear of people thinking I'm crazy.
I can't wait. 23 more sleeps.