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I am endlessly amused by the fact that pregnancy has a disease code associated with it on my disability insurance paperwork. Then again, either R.D. Laing or Neil Gaiman said that life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100% fatality rate, which I can’t help but think of every time I look at that paperwork.

April 5th is my last day at work for a while, and that’s a very odd reality to be facing. While I’ve done vacations and I’ve done breaks between jobs, I haven’t actually been not working at a job longer than 2 weeks since high school. I haven’t stopped going somewhere to stare at a computer screen or tap on a keypad and take care of the emergency du jour in twenty years.

Twenty years.

And I am used to it. I got bored during the one-and-a-half week I had off in December. I’ll be (hopefully) waiting 3-5 weeks for a baby to make her grand entrance. And that is weird.

(And no, I am not saying that the life of a stay at home mom is not work. It is. It absolutely is. But it is also different from working for a company, with benefits and timesheets and coworkers who are hopefully better behaved than a newborn, though I know — not always. When we decided to mix our chemistry kits, Mike and I talked extensively about whether one of us should stop working and if we could afford it and still be happy. Ultimately, we came to the conclusions we came to, and I will be going back to work, and so will he. But that’s probably a separate post.)

Weird. Weird to not have to go someplace in the morning. Weird to not have things due (except a date). Weird to be waiting — not for email or a call back, but a baby.

I’m a worker bee. Even on days off, I’m probably planning something. I need doing. I just don’t know how to live, otherwise.

My husband — though invested with a nigh-religious work ethic — is something of the opposite. Once the workday is over, he winds down and is content to be still. If we do nothing over a weekend, he’s happy. This is another one of those “ways we balance each other out” things. It also helps that he sleeps in on weekends, because then I can get my doings out of the way while he’s oblivious to the world.

Ah well. Anyway. I’m sure I’ll adjust. Actually, I’m sure I’ll sleep a lot. And cook a lot. In stages. Standing and chopping have, of late, been a bit wearying. I’ll probably get in some walking. And maybe some pushups. I do miss my bench presses. Maybe I should make a list. Ooh! Or a spreadsheet. Or a Project file.

Like I said.

Always need to be doing.