My mother woke me up at 11. I was fast asleep and wasn't going to take the call, but she called twice in a row so I immediately imagined that something might have happened. But no. It was simply the usual 'so, how are you' call.
I don't usually sleep this late, so I can't blame her for thinking I was up, but I'm so tired from all the work we've been doing this week that it was the first day I had allowed myself to sleep a bit longer. I mean, isn't there a rule that says when people are on vacation never call before noon? If there isn't, there should be.
So I got up, grumbling, picked up the phone, tried to sound alive and not be annoyed at questions such as 'so, what colour did you paint the room?' and then fixed myself some breakfast, since by then I knew I'd never be able to get back to sleep.
The cleaning lady arrived at one and I had to go around the flat picking up all the left-over materials and tools from the previous days. Then I cleaned myself up, got dressed and tried to decide what to do for the rest of the day.
It's not too pleasant being home on a vacation day with the background noise of the vacuum cleaner but I'm also feeling a bit too tired to walk around all afternoon. Decisions, decisions...
We finally decided to go out, halfway through the afternoon. Before leaving we decided to check the mailbox and there was a letter from the hospital - the test result we already knew but we had been waiting for the rest of the information - and it's a boy!
Somehow I knew. I've been telling people for ages I thought it was a boy. I don't why but as much as I've always felt it would be a lot of fun to have a girl, it didn't feel right when I thought about it in connection with this pregnancy.
Guess I won't be teaching him any make-up tricks then... |