All I wanted was my Mr. Pibb

I am done. I just got off the phone with Mr. W. I called him at work and started crying and he laughed. I was getting ready to have lunch when I knocked my Mr. Pibb off the desk and onto the printer, down the side of the desk, and all over the new carpet. My belly did it. As Mr. W said, the baby knocked over the Mr. Pibb. The baby also prevents me from moving the desk, to get to the printer, which is in very tight quarters, picking up the printer with any authority, and cleaning up the sticky mess that is settling down there right now. I waddled off to grab a towel only to realize how futile my efforts were and just started to cry. I am done.
I was able to get most of the ice pulled out of the crack between the desk and the printer table, but I know what a disaster is forming down there right now and honestly, it is a little more than I can handle at the moment.
Most things are a little more than I can handle right now. I have hit the end of my rope. I know I only have a few weeks left, but those may as well be months right now. Every day brings a new challenge or ache or accident caused by my awkward belly, hips, swollen feet or whatever else makes it impossible to function normally.
That Dugger lady is an idiot. Who in the world could do this 18 times and give it another go? Sorry, but you have enough kids, lady. You are a moron and must be truly masochistic. I want to smack her, and if I were around her, I would.
Even as the little bubble in my belly pops around, probably giggling because he knows mommy is at her wit's end, I think how much I want him out. I just want to hug him and then start telling him how much he put me through. "I carried you for 9 months". Oh yes, there is a reason women say this. For me, the biggest reason is month 9. 19 more days according to the ultrasounds we had earlier in the pregnancy, so that will be quite enough, thanks. To be honest, 8 or 9 more days would do just fine. Get me to October, and then get the pumpkin out. My last set work appointment is on September 30. That gives him the 1st through the 11th to show up on his own before I start trying handstands and other crazy methods. Not to mention Mr. W's mom heard by him or me that the doctor could induce at 39 weeks. She now has this set in her mind as the baby's birthday. I guess she thinks this is like ordering a Big Mac. Not exactly. My guess is that the doctor will choose not to schedule me for a Sunday induction, anyway, but there is no point trying to explain this to her.
Meanwhile, my heartburn is trying to eat a hole through my chest and I have to sleep nearly sitting up. My ankles look like there are weights on them, but there aren't. They are just big and fat and scary. I want to go lay down right now, and even though I should be working, I think I may. I just don't have it in me today. Maybe tomorrow I will, but today, I feel like giving up.