The End is Near (or is it?)

  
 Apparently I have about a month left in this pregnancy.

 This morning I managed to squish my little water filled potato sacks (more commonly known as feet) into the biggest sandals I could find. They will not come off until the end of the day because if I unwedge them, I am guaranteed to never get them back on. 
I am trying to come up with a name for the maneuver that I’ve recently devised for getting into my vehicle without ripping my pelvis in two. Suggestions are always appreciated. 
I wait with wanting anticipation after each Braxton-hicks contraction for another to follow, preferably within 5 minutes. I am sadly disappointed when they rarely come. The most painful ones are my favourite, as they seem more promising. 
I daydream about the best places for my water to break. In my car or in my bed are my least dreamt of places – only because then I have to clean up after myself. I’m not sure where the best place would be. 
“You dropped what on the floor and you want me to pick it up?” That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day – funnier than the production titled “applying compression stockings,” which you all missed while you were still sleeping. 
I realize I make look like I’m “ready to pop.” I assure you that I do, infact, still have a month to go. Please don’t remind me of how impossibly big I look. 
No wonder the last month of pregnancy seems to go on forever!