"You begin to read with A B C..."

Well to be honest from the very begining: I am not a cat. Although my father has in the past refered to me as one and even assotiated me with such four legged creatures that have lived in his house. This is in no bias with a dog, for I love the dog as much as the cat...I think I just relate better to the cat but that explanation must wait until another day.
About me: I am what I would like to veiw as... a perfectly normal person living a perfectly unnormal life in a perfectly normal world (yes, I know, very redundant.) This statement could stay true and be inverted with the correct perspective, which very frequently does happen to me. But stating it in this manner brings about less disputers. I think the easiest way to explain my life is the most boring soap opera. Very dramatic yet...normal and even realistic at times.
To start off with, some of you may relate to this...I have gained a new respect for refering to a toilet as a throne. I treat it with great respect and wash my toilet at least 2 times a week. No I am not obsessive complusive, I've just seen it in a new light, from a new perspective. I no longer see it as a thing to rest upon, but rather kneel before. I am nearing the end of my first trimester of pregnancy (and hopefully the sickness that comes with it.) I've seen the darkside of a toilet (hence the washing compulsively, when you're already sick you want the least amount of repulsive things around you) but I have also found the toilet to be a very reliable friend. It is dependable and supportive; many of us willingly expose ourselves again and again to this friend, never backbiting or breaking our trust. How sanitary and clean it should be...for every day it has to deal with our ...how do I say this nicely... our "poop." Never a word of complaint. Yet sometimes it too can get tired, a little behind, and even backed up with all the paperwork and all we do is fuss and complain. We face but for a few moments in time the same mess that a toilet deals with every day, never getting vacation time or a day off, no overtime or time and a half. Who can blame it for wanting a break once in a while? Does anyone of us ever have such a positive out look on life while being bombarded with muck and filth day after day? All you would be handed is the dirty work in life and what fun would that be? I admire the person who felt their toilet needed a name: John, Latrine. But some of the other names are so random (creative): the pot, the pool, the head, porcelain god, teeter-totter. Yet others are more functional and even historical: Out house, urinal, flusher, the crapper (The name of the inventor of the flushable toilet is Crapper, no joke). What are some names you call your toilet? Respect your toilet, because really, without it you'd be in deep "poop."
This didn't start out to be an editorial about toilets, I wanted to talk about being pregnant but this is much better don't you think? It makes me laugh. My husband wanted me to keep a journal and here we go. I can't promise how long it will be till my next entry but it will come when it comes. Thanks for listening.