Nesting

I remember on one of my good days during the first trimester (and those were few and far between) Michael came home to find me cleaning out the fridge. His response was "You're cleaning out the fridge? Yay, nesting!"
Here's the thing about nesting, at least for me, I'm already the kind of person who sleeps better when there aren't any dishes in the sink. So, it doesn't all the sudden make me what to clean when I wouldn't want to before it just elevates me from frustrated by the mess to homicidal over the mess. Anyone who knows Michael can understand that I spent alot of my time frustrated before I got pregnant.
Between Michael and Isaac you can imagine what I'm up against here. Since the nausea lifted and second trimester started, come hell or high water, I do the dishes and wipe down all the kitchen surfaces at least once a day. In the beginning, I also kept laundry moving, but lifting the amount of laundry produced in this house became a problem quickly. Now I just remind Michael to keep things moving and I do all the folding/putting away.
The floors were a problem before I got pregnant (bad back) so I'm at Mike's mercy there. The most recent development that comes with the extra weight is that bending at all is painful. I can't pick up all the socks or miscellaneous toys that end up on the floor any longer. I have to stand and point for someone else to get it or fight all my instincts and ignore it (yeah right!). It gets a little bit worse every day. In the last 48 hours I can no longer bend low enough to put the silverware in the dishwasher comfortably.
So, how do people cope? I'm assuming that the urge to clean gets stronger as delivery draws nearer and inversely the ability to clean gets more and more limited. Is that one of God's little jokes? Maybe back in the red tent days when every pregnant woman had a support system of other women from the clan it wasn't an issue. Now a days I'd imagine alot of people have this problem, but especially me given who I live with.
Now excuse me while I go scrub the bathtub. I'll pay for it later or even during, but I literally can't stand it anymore. After that I'll fold a load of Isaac's clothes before I weep for several minutes over the state or our bedroom.