Editions of Me

I'm moving in two days. Jimmy and I are moving in together to a condo that my parents own, so we're renting it. It's a really gorgeous place, very private, and perfect to set up house and wait for Jolie to arrive. I'm very excited. So I'm a bit overwhelmed about having to pack up my entire life. Well, not my ENTIRE life - let it be known that I'm a bit of a pack rat. Well, pack rats keep stuff because they think they'll need it later, right? I keep stuff because I'm really too lazy to deal with it, and all of a sudden, the boxes pile up. So, I'm a lazy ass, is the real story. Out of everything I own, I really only want to keep, like, HALF of it - I've already donated over half my wardrobe (which made a sizeable dent, but I still have about 10 garbage bags' worth of clothing that I'm keeping - and yes, that's how I "pack" my closet). I'm donating over half of my bookshelf, and believe me, that breaks my heart more than an

Jolie kicked me so hard earlier that my stomach jumped. As did my heart in my chest.

I'm getting ready to move soon, but like, I can't move soon enough. I was happy about my living situation until I was offered the opportunity to move into my own place, and ever since then, I haven't been able to stomach ANYTHING about my previous living arrangement - every little thing annoys me that didn't used to annoy me before; people who I could tolerate previously are getting punched in the face (in my head, anyway); and I just am ITCHING to get the hell out of here. Like I said, things just can't happen fast enough. Jolie is kicking, usually at inopportune times (like when I need to sleep, or after I've had a big meal), and therefore, making me VERY uncomfortable, as happy as I am to hear from her. ("Hi Mom! Check this out!" *WHAP!!!!*) Jimmy just felt her kick for the first time yesterday, and I'm happy for that - it's a chance for him to really feel her presence. I'm glad summer has started. This year has been terrible, personally

... I just get tired of being asked "How are you?" all the time. Especially because I know it's only being asked because of my pregnancy (at least, by people who've never bothered to ask me that before I was pregnant). I feel like I should wear a sign (or, get tattooed) that says: - I'm fine. - The baby's fine. - It's a girl. - Her name is Jolie. - She's due in September. - Yes, I'm aware it's going to be difficult and I'm not going to sleep much. - If I want your stories or your advice, I'll ask. Thanks. And that should cut out all unnecessary small talk, and then the other person can either go along on their merry way, or talk to me about something else. I'm not just a pregnant person. I'm a person, PERIOD, first and foremost. Believe it or not, the pregnancy isn't the only thing on my mind. It's the most important thing, yes, but I existed before I was pregnant too. Ask me about my worries for my job; ask me about ho