Nervous breakdown

Last night we went to Lakeside (the shopping mecca of Essex). We needed to get a chest of drawers for the baby's room anyway but it was his idea to go so soon. And yes, him being a man (obviously), he had his reasons and one of them was not IKEA.

No. His main reason being, he wanted to buy a new TV. Other than ours being on the slightly small side, there was nothing wrong with it. You could watch it happily without squinting. I thought maybe he wanted to upgrade to a 32 inch or whatever the norm is these days. Turns out the norm is 40. Forty fucking inches of television. Now please tell me why you'd need a TV this big? It just looks ridiculous. He is clearly heading for a nervous breakdown, he's reached thirty and has realised the enormity of having a baby, is about to start a new job and has an ever increasing neurotic wife. That has nervous breakdown written all over it.

Whilst his was messing around with his new bit of stuff, I built the chest of drawers. That's right, I built them. A heavily pregnant, tired, aching, mess of a woman sat there and built the drawers. And I did it properly. With a screwdriver. I broke a few nails and gained a few scratches along the way and boy did my feet ache after. Now surely that deserves a manicure and pedicure, DOESN'T IT? (I know you read this. The answer to my question is yes. Unless of course you want me to add to your list of reasons why you're heading for a nervous breakdown?!)