Yesterday evening I was sitting back giving my poor pregnancy weary body a rest when himself poked his head in from the kitchen (yes, the wonderful man was doing the wash-up).
‘What’s with all the lemons?’
‘Lemons?’ I was confused.
Apparently I had ordered a bag of lemons with my online shopping and then bought more at the farmers market. So what was with all the lemons?
I had no idea.
I mean I remember buying them, kind of. But I have no idea what I was going to do with them.
We put it down to crazy pregnancy brain (what am I going to do when I can’t use that excuse anymore?) and laughed it off.
Then today, when my mum called over I gave her the lemons as we’ve a big family gathering on Monday and I thought they might come in useful for the ole G&T’s. So she put them in her bag.
No problems so far.
Then she went to leave and for some reason, I needed a lemon, so she agreed to leave one with me.
I then sat down and spent the next half hour smelling the lemon (I kid you not).
By now himself was home and tactfully ignoring my lemon sniffing.
But he began to get worried when I grabbed my phone, rang mum and asked for the rest of the lemons back! Not to mention half an hour later when he found me in tears because I couldn’t find my lemon.
So I’ve been drinking a kind of homemade lemon drink for the evening and we seem to have silently agreed not mention the insanity of my latest obsession.
Could this be some bizarre indication that labour is imminent or am I losing the plot altogether? Or maybe a little from column A and a little from column B?