Is It Nesting if You'd Rather Be Resting?

This past weekend I shared with various friends my plans to tackle a few items on my long-running to-do list, including cleaning out my clothes closet, hanging a mirror in our bedroom, and tacking up some trim that's been sitting in the basement since we moved in a year ago.

Inevitably, I heard, "Oooo! You're nesting!"

Now, I know these people mean well, and are merely excited for me, but I admit to being a little annoyed. I have always been the kind of person to clean, organize, and improve things around the house. Once I even ripped up the linoleum in the kitchen of a place we were renting to uncover the wood floors underneath. (I do not recommend this kind of investment of time and energy in a place owned by someone else, however.)

If anything, I'm dragging my heels at our new place. I have two pages of a notebook (college-rule, thank-you-very-much) filled with things I'd like to get done around the house, hopefully before the baby comes. I don't want to do any of these things; I would much rather curl up with a copy of In Style and a rerun of Gilmore Girls.

But if I want to find my spices in five seconds rather than five minutes, or be able to fit my maternity clothes in my closet, or not be woken up by the sunrise pouring into our bedroom through curtainless windows, then I'd better get busy.

Excuse me while I drag my sorry ass away from the computer and start actually accomplishing something.