Losing My Ever-Loving Mind

Evidently I'm losing my ever-loving mind. Cases in point:

• I caused a buzz. A few weeks ago, when I was feeling less Anne-like and more zombie-like, Mac and I made an emergency run to Moe's because it was all I could imagine stomaching for supper. (Full disclosure: I'm picky as all get out and order tacos with just beans, beef and lettuce on them. A waste of eating out, I know.)
  
  The food was delicious, Mac behaved himself superbly and we enjoyed a full view of entering and exiting guests, all of whom seemed to be making quizzical faces and casting curious glances towards the parking lot. We sat and people watched for a while after eating, trying to figure out what was going on. The reason revealed itself when we made our way out: I'd left my car running for the entire meal.
  
  
• I shoplifted yesterday. I was at store number three in a seemingly endless search to find the right size envelopes for a project. A sales lady at Store Three suggested Store Four, so I high-tailed it out of there while I still had the motivation to keep looking. At Store Four, I realized I'd shoved the previous store's unwanted envelopes in my purse on my way out. Eep.
  
  Thankfully, Store Three's cashier didn't bat an eyelash when I returned them this morning. I didn't even claim pregnancy brain, just apologized profusely and sped home. I may never return.
  
  
• I singlehandedly opened a restaurant. Two friends and I were meeting for lunch today with free pizza coupons (thanks, Mellow Mushroom!) and a desire to eat early and avoid the other lunchers clogging up the kitchen with their own free pizza orders.
  
  Evidently I was so eager to eat that I arrived a full forty five minutes early, opening the door as the first non-employee to show up - and thoroughly puzzling all in sight. (You know no one moves too quickly at the 'Shroom.) Either I can't tell time, I forgot when we were meeting or my brain is still celebrating the long weekend.
  
  
• I got lost in time. Three times in the last week, once to a reporter and twice to dear friends, I have referred to the current year as 2010. Seriously.
  
  
• I can't count. I requested the new season of Parks & Recreation be sent to us by Netflix - but somehow messed the order of the discs up. As such, we are now in possession of disc two and wondering what happened in the first third of the season. (It took a whole episode before I caught on that we'd jumped into the middle of the story...)
  
  
• I cried at Sesame Street. I probably would have done so even without the assistance of pregnancy, but it must be stated: the extra hormones don't help.
  
  Do you get a lump in your throat when will.i.am (the tear-jerkiest crooner of all time, right?) sings about your child being thoughtful? No? Okay then.
  

These aren't the first times I've acted like a dunce, and they sure won't be the last. But without a big round belly to prove I'm pregnant (and thus share some of the blame with my brain cell-stealing baby-to-be), I'm afraid the blame falls squarely on me.

Am I going plum crazy?