Jan

2

Idle hands, devil’s workshop

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Man, I’m kind of glad that the holidays are over and done with and my house is fir-needle-free and there are no more seasonal celebrations to be had for a while. Down with festivity! Thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot poles for all!

Now I just need to make it through my work-related Macworld preparations then it’s sweet, sweet sailing . . . for about two weeks, then apparently there’s going to be this newborn in the house? Like, a tiny little baby? I know, it sounds crazy to me TOO.

I was lying in bed last night taking a breather from my vigorous wee-hour routine of repeatedly getting up to pee, eat Tums, and walk off the Jimmy Leg, when it occurred to me that Smalltopus could actually make his big appearance any day now. I mean, there’s no RULE that says he’s going to obediently hang out where he is until his scheduled arrival. And here I am, woefully unprepared—I’ve managed to unearth Riley’s old baby clothes, but they’re just lying on the floor in a big heap. We have no newborn-sized diapers! No bottles! No attempt has been made to get the carseat out of the garage and the sawdust blown from its crevices!

Plus, my fingernails are too long. They were all pregnancy-dragon-lady-length when I unexpectedly had Riley three weeks early, and I had to cut them right away with clippers because OMG WHAT IF I SCRATCH THE BABY and there’s this photo of me holding his little feet and it would be such a cool picture except everyone always thinks it shows JB’s hands, because of my short-ass, MAN HAND fingernails. This time I should try and stay manicured at all times from here on out to a baby-appropriate length, maybe a nice squoval.

Clearly I’ve got a lot to do, what with the baby gear procurement and the nail filing and all.

Truthfully, I would really like to take a break between going on maternity leave and Smalltopus’s birth date, just a few days when I don’t do anything at all, because all the preparations have been done and I can just sit around and breathe and read a book or two and maybe see a movie, get a haircut. Here’s hoping.

In other news, I managed to stay awake until midnight on New Year’s Eve, with the help of a (forbidden, surely) mid-evening Red Bull. We watched Seattle’s fireworks show on TV, which was sort of hilariously awesome since the software that manages the fireworks’ coordination apparently went tits up and at some point you can tell someone in a full-body panic just hit the RELEASE ALL button and explosions started going off willy-nilly, completely non-synchronized with the music, spraying from the Space Needle in a giant spoogy premature ejaculation of gunpowder and lights. Go, 2008!

Tell me, what did you do on New Year’s Eve? Was it marginally less lame than sitting on a couch watching bad fireworks before immediately staggering off to bed at 12:05?

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