Out of love for my family, I work to thwart dirt-inspired SPORE by cleaning up a bit before the baby’s birth. My husband and children gratefully respond to this kind gesture by allowing me to waddle around after them yelling, “What is wrong with you people?!? KEEP THIS ROOM CLEANED UP!”
Surely the end is near. Let the countdown begin.
*Tricksy hospitals with their antiseptic smells and crisp white sheets . . . every time I’m in one I manage to forget that, while that thing in the back of my fridge can no longer be called an onion, at least my house doesn't support a freeloading Staph.