I admit it. I'm sulking.
And I've been sulking for a while now. I can't seem to shake it.
I'm trying not to give myself too much of a hard time about being in a moody because our current set of circumstances are entirely unique and never, never, never in a million years would we have ever expected to be sitting here in this situation.
I'm seven and a half months pregnant. We haven't had a kitchen for almost three weeks. We, or more importantly Tilly, has no access to our garden. The house is full of builders and covered in mud and dust and Darren has only gone all jet-set and is working in New York this week. I am on my own.
Big fat bummer, huge massive sulk.
I know I'm an adult and I should know better but it's all just got to me this week and I can't help it.
I also know I have no right to sulk, I'm a very lucky lady and I have so much wonderful, wonderful stuff in my life but sometimes, just sometimes, the pull to give in to behaving like a child ("its not fair"!) feels too strong to resist.
I know I'll feel better tomorrow. I'm sure I will.
I apologise for breaking the "positive blogging" rules but I have to say it's been hugely cathartic to write this post and I do feel slightly better for it, plus I'm having chips for my dinner and that's got to be the best cure for a sulk, ever.