Little white lies part one...

Urgh.

Yes, I'm irritable. Shut up. I'm getting tired of keeping schtum now. Thinking of excuses for everything is almost as exhausting as being pregnant. Well, not quite, but you know what I mean. I also feel the need to bleat on about it all here because I can't vent it elsewhere. So I'd be prepared for some boring baby ranting posts if I were you. In fact, if you're adverse to such things, just bugger off now and save yourself the time.

I had tea out with the gals tonight. Which is usually a lovely, chatty affair but between me fighting to stay awake (not the company's fault, I'm just THAT tired at the minute) and having to pretend I'm not that hungry (not like me at all), I just couldn't be bothered with it all and found myself fantasising about going to bed with new pyjamas and clean sheets rather than participate in conversations about people we went to school with. Choosing what I could have from the menu was also rather trying. Sticking to lemonade is not my scene, and neither is not having coffee. Actually I was feeling quite bleurgh and sorry for myself in general but had to keep a fixed grin and at least appear interested in the exploits of my non-knocked up chums.

I've also found it difficult keeping things concealed at work, too. Being bleurgh at work is becoming much harder to disguise. This is partly my own doing too, though. Aside from needing the loo all the live long day and nibbling on all manner of sickness 'remedies' - trying to keep Amazon deliveries of baby books to work inconspicuous is like a Russian spy operation to get the packages safely to my desk unnoticed. Must find suitcases and large newspaper with cut-out eye holes.

Oh, I've managed to irritate myself now. Good night.