Pregnancy...when will it end?

This pregnancy is winding down. Sooner than later with any luck. I know that "millions of women" (as everyone likes to remind me) have experienced this, but (again, as I have replied to all that have attempted to comfort me with this sentiment) that doesn't help ME feel better. Widespread as it may be, this is the oddest experience I've ever been through. My body moves without me moving it. I have carpel tunnel all of a sudden. My arms fall asleep while I'm putting on make-up or drying my hair. I quite literally have to roll out of bed. I also, quite literally, walk like a freakin' penguin wherever I go. I seriously can't walk normally if I try. My nose is the size of Texas. I find myself racing for the bathroom every two hours. The width of my profile is freak-show-circus-like. I can't wear my wedding ring. (It's never been off this long since I've had it.) I wake up in an almost panic like state nightly wondering, "is this it?" And now the dreams...they are getting more and more odd. Last night I took a journey to France and learned about a dude named Jean Luke something and some guy named Du Ba`ld. I learned their histories in order to try and have a scholarly conversation with my intellect of a brother, and then I met and hung out with my bro at an NBA game. (Aren't NBA games only played in the states?) The night before (in my dream), I walked myself over to a very ghettofied gas station near our loft and told them they needed to revamp their look. I asked the owner if he liked his homeless clientele (who do in fact loiter continuously at this particular gas station...I'm not just being a jerk), or if he would prefer a clientele of a 'higher caliber' (these were my exact words in my dream...perhaps I am a jerk). I attempted logic, and tried to explain to him how middle class people probably fill their tanks all the way (which would earn him more money), rather than just a little of the way like his 'poorer' customers probably did. Then I handed him one of Matt's pressure washing business cards and told him that my husband could really help him get his gas station looking much nicer, which would appeal more to the downtown inhabitants. (This hasn't yet been reported, but Matt actually did buy a pressure sprayer and is planning to make extra cash on the weekends with it.) Let me just say, I've never been to France, never been to an NBA game, and I've never even been to this ghetto gas station (that really does exist). (Just so that some of you don't think I'm too big of a jerk, some dude did attempt to sell Matt a lawn mower at this particular station. Lawn mower, in the middle of downtown? A bit sketchy, right?)

All of this is just a normal day in the life of a pregee. Needless to say, I'm pretty ready. At this point, the anxiety of "when" won't go away.