The Joys of Nesting

     I am the worst housekeeper of all time.  Literally.  When friends visit my house I usually say that I just moved in and haven't finished unpacking or that I am having a garage sale.  I've lived here six years and don't even have a garage.  There is a rocking recliner in my living room that no one sits in due to the fact that there are always clothes piled up on it.  We affectionately refer to it is 'the laundry chair'.  These are the clean clothes.  The dirty ones are another story.  They reside in two locations:  the laundry basket in the bathroom and....a designated spot in the kitchen floor.
     Now before you start thinking my house looks like an episode of "Hoarders" I have to say, I have a system.  I can tell my husband that the dress shirt he is looking for is in the basement on a hanger behind Ava's Halloween costume from last year, and that my purse is in the hall closet underneath the mini Christmas tree and the bag of clothes from Kohl's that I haven't taken the tags off.  Also, my cupboards are an architectural masterpiece.  Based on the way I stack Cheerios, Triscuits, Fiber One Bars and Goldfish Crackers in flimsy bags, I should be designing earthquake proof buildings and making a lot more money than I do working part time.
     All of these factors combined make the fact that I am currently eight months pregnant with my second daughter and in the hormonal throes of nesting all the more interesting.  Instead of being on my knees scrubbing the tile with a toothbrush, I am organizing my heart out.  I have bought totes, containers and plastic hangers.  I have folded underwear with abandon and placed them neatly in our dresser drawers.  I created a diaper basket with all the necessities, wipes, Desitin, and packs of Huggies.  And I can't find anything.  I keep looking in all the old haunts for my favorite coffee mug only to curse life when I can't remember where I decided was a more appropriate location for the damn thing.  My hair is terrifying because I have no idea what I did with my gel.  And my favorite jean maternity shorts are no where to be found.  Not the basket in the bathroom, not in the kitchen floor and not even in the laundry chair.  It would be the understatement of the year to say that I am so ready to give birth to my daughter.  Aside form the fact that I can't wait to meet this darling that I have been toting around for the last 250 days, I just want my coffee mug back.  Mess and all.