In some cases, practice doesn't always make perfect, and other long-winded discussions

Our bathroom shower has some open screw holes where I assume a previous owner had some shelving of sorts placed. 
See figure A.

Almost every morning—and I emphasize the almost every—in my pre-contact and therefore blind state, as I fumble into the bathroom during the first few minutes of consciousness, I do a startled double take at these innocent little holes, mistaking one (or several) for a large, fierce, intruding spider.

Almost every morning. And we've lived here for a year, folks.

And on a seemingly unrelated note—of which I'm going to try my hardest to make related—I have mentioned before that since a little human has decided to set up camp in my stomach, I've developed a hearty and faithful gag reflex. To just about anything. I mean, look at me wrong and I'll set off in a frenzy. By now I'm well aware of certain things that will spur an attack—sitting up too quickly, dumping things down the sink (strange, but true), etc., etc., etc.—but some things just can't be avoided. Like brushing my teeth.

Or bathrooms.

Is that weird? It started while we were on our cruise. It doesn't really matter the state of the bathroom—clean, dirty, big, little. It could smell like daffodils in the springtime for all I care—they're all the same, and they all hold something magical within them that triggers my brain which in turn triggers a dreadful gag in the most violent way. And heaven forbid I glance at the toilet, sitting there in all its grandeur, taunting me to come near. It's gotten bad enough that I've developed a psychological aversion to the loo. I have to give myself pep talks before walking into one.

As humans, we become pretty accustomed to bathrooms at a pretty early age. So what on earth has happened to me? The good news is that it's usually just a morning problem. But I emphasize the usually.

So, after getting over the initial daily "spider" false alarm only to transition into a fit of "I'm-gonna-spew-if-I-don't-get-out-of-here-soon" spasms, is it really so bad if I stagger back to bed and throw the sheets over my head?

...Anyway, I resorted to writing all about it in hopes that it'll somehow bring about a cure to both issues.

However, despite the new bathroom phobia, overall I've been feeling much better. And feeling well has helped me to transition into a much more excited disposition. I'm ready to go buy me some baby shoes! Well, buy baby some baby shoes, rather. *

I'm in a really awkward stage where I look more like I've had a sever-all-ties break up with the gym instead of like I'm pregnant (which, sure, we've taken a bit of a break—but it's not like we don't associate...). And my face is essentially one big zit. But other than that, I can assure you that all is well because the other day I zealously scurried around my kitchen making cupcakes while jamming to Oingo Boingo's "Dead Man's Party."

And if you don't understand how that last sentence relates to anything, just know that it is a keen indicator that I'm pretty much back to normal. Emphasis on the pretty much.

*Noteworthy footnote: We're scheduled to find out if we're having a lil' Thomas or a lil' Season on Dec. 2. I asked baby the other day if he or she would be willing to give ol' Mom a little hint as to which gender he or she happens to be. So far, he or she is not talking. Sheesh, stubbornness starts at an early age. Which, clearly, comes from Tom.