We've made it to week seven. The only important milestone is that I am yet to throw up. I'm still rejoicing heavily in this fact. No throw up. No gagging. Praise Jesus.
But, food. Sweet, glorious, food has lost it's appeal. Nothing sounds good to eat. I don't feel like eating anything. I can't find anything in my kitchen. My soul has been sucked away. I love food. I think about food when I go to sleep. I think about food when I wake up in the morning. It's food all. the. time.
True story: Matt made the Pioneer Woman's Cinnamon Rolls and our family favorite, Beirocks, this week. I didn't eat either one. I also have half a pizza from Pizza Hut in the fridge that is untouched. Also, speaking of Matt, if he is working then I won't eat. If he's not here to force the issue, then forget it. I'd rather sit wrapped in my blanket on the couch.
So. Food. I miss you.
Moving on. Remember when I used to blog all the time? I was also doing a house tour? Showing off my house?
Here's the finished Powder Room. It's been done for like two months but I've been too tired to blog it. I just want to sit on my couch wrapped in a blanket, remember?
Seven weeks down. 33 more to go. I can totally do this. Cause, have I mentioned this yet? I'm not throwing up in that there pretty bathroom.
Eternal optimist, I am not.