I think I'm a lazy person.
And possibly a hermit.
Sometimes I stand at the kitchen sink in my underwear (at noon) and watch the shadow of the house creep across the grass in the backyard. I probably look like a statue, though not a statuesque one. Fragments of thoughts run through my mind. "Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Not that I mind. Should probably sweep the floor. Brian needs to eat the lunch meat. Quilt."
Sometimes I sit in bed for hours at a time (starting at 12:42). I watch my belly. Sometimes it jumps. I think things during this time, too. "She is asleep. Maybe she is sucking her thumb. I hope that she will be happy and gentle. I think I will eat another candy pumpkin."
I am not bored.
I have not washed my hair in three days.
Yesterday I omitted makeup. (People were still nice.)
I feel extremely calm. And very, very quiet.
All I do is think, watch, and make. I make thoughts, breakfast, sentences, rhymes, lunch, visions of the future, stories, clean stacks of folded laundry, baby afghans and quilts for soon to be first time grandmothers.
Oh, and this little munchkin that is my little girl. I'm making her, too.
So maybe I am busy. But I don't think it looks like it.