The other day I found myself telling a friend a story SO boring that, once I realised the extent of its boringness, I could hardly bring myself to finish it.
I've noticed this happening a lot recently.
I can only presume that this is another symptom of the condition commonly known as baby brain. And that the more babies you have, the worse it gets.
As if putting milk in the fabric conditioner dispenser of the washing machine drawer and walking all the way into town to go to the Post Office without the parcels you wanted to post wasn't enough, I now appear to have lost the art of conversation too.
Some friends popped round for a coffee last week and they were the first adults (aside from Himself and my elderly neighbour) that I had seen in five days. I was so excited that I spouted the most ridiculous amount of shit in their direction without letting them get a word in edgeways for at LEAST the first twenty minutes after they had walked through the front door.
One particularly spectacular story which took me a PHENOMENALLY long time to tell was about how I struggle to dry clothes indoors in the winter. "It just doesn't dry outside and I haven't got the space in here!" I said while my friends looked at their watches and tried to stifle yawns. And who can blame them? WHO THE HELL CARES! I hadn't seen them for weeks, did I really have NOTHING even a TINY bit more exciting to share with them? It's no wonder they left shortly after.
I don't remember being this boring after Daisy was born so I have come to the conclusion that the more children you have the worse your baby brain becomes.
It's scientific fact that baby brain exists.* All those crazy hormones that are still pumping round your body, combined with the complete and utter EXHAUSTION from all those sleepless nights is bound to have some sort of effect on your brain. But it will go away soon, right?! xoxox
*I think. I'm too exhausted to google.