The nesting starts out nice enough. About a month or two ago, when I began to feel the craze to organize build to a breaking point within me, it felt delicious to give in. Throughout the first three trips to Ikea I was high on my pregnancy hormones. I felt so gratified when I renovated our recycling center. The day I sorted out my pen and office supply drawer was one of the best days all year. I found the deed to our house. I mean, come on, that's a major win.
But now I'm at the point in the nesting craze where everything is shit. I'm at the tail end of these big home improvement projects which are all intended to miraculsouly convert my 900 square foot one bedroom apartment into a palatial home where five people can live happily without grating on each others last nerve. Now that the projects are nearly complete, it is clear that will NEVER happen. 900 square feet remains 900 square feet no matter how many floor-to-ceiling bookshelves you get. Ikea is great but it doesn't magically add an extra bathroom onto your house. So there's that somber realization.
And also, since I have completed the projects, I'm at the stage now where I've gotten rid of all the old furniture but haven't yet finished assembling the new shit so I just have piles of clothes and books and Easy Bake Ovens littering every corner of my house, right next to the piles of boxed up shelves and furniture. Not to mention, since I'm full term now, I could have the baby at any minute, so I've filled my apartment with all the baby shit - strollers and car seats and bassinets, oh my! - but haven't found a place to put any ofit yet. Because there IS no place.
So, I'm that aggravated pigeon who opts to flip on her bird boob tube and watch reality TV instead of dealing with the mess of shit that should be her home. I'm sure that pigeon tells herself she'll find the magic solution at the next trip to Ikea.
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