Wednesday, 15 August 2012

Never going to happen...

The nesting instinct is a myth.

I should know. I have been waiting for it to kick in for a while. It was always going to be remarkable for me, I mean, you remember my skankiness, right? But I was hopeful. You hear stories of women repainting their hallways, ironing curtains and scrubbing already clean floors, all because 'the nesting instinct just overcame them.'

It isn't true.

I mean, they did those things, sure, but not because of some primal instinct.


The truth is much, much more depressing.

It was while I was ironing all of Steve's shirts (a new low if ever there was one) that it first occurred to me, then, as I was hoovering under the chest of drawers, the idea grew a bit stronger, finally, as I was sewing labels into my youngest brother's new school uniform, it clicked.

I wasn't nesting! I was bored! Yep, it is my belief that women do not go on crazy cleaning sprees because they feel the need to make a perfect home for the baby, no, they are purely bored as hell.

I mean, when this nesting instinct supposedly kicks in, the vast majority of women will have been at home, off work and alone, for at least a week. And that is a long time with nothing to do. The usual fun things that fill your time are out; you don't want to go too far from home in case you go into labour, you get knackered walking too far so shopping isn't an option and seriously, there is only so much TV a girl can take. So you look around you and think, alright, I literally have no more excuses as to why I can't clean the bathroom.

And you give in.

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