Sixteen More Sleeps!

Boy-Howdy, is it ever getting close now! The day of my last post, I seemed to have worked myself into such a tizzy that a few friends thought I was over-reacting. Well, quite possibly, or maybe I'm just a little more verbal with my anxieties than many men. It really ebbs & flows for me, but I find the fear to be more fun to write about, and more necessary to purge. It's easier to be funny when ranting, than when I'm all aglow with optimism, but truth be told, I can't wait to hear what his/her first word will be, then denying that she/he learned her fourth words from me. (If it's “dumb/jack ass,” the smart money's on mom, but if it's “Ph'khol,” it came from dad.) I can't wait to take my offspring to work to show off, I'm looking forward to seeing my parents faces when I announce “It's a......” Telling the kids “I will turn this car around!” (And I will, I have a strong aversion to empty threats.) Telling them that I bought them from the Circus. Telling them that the Tooth Fairy uses their teeth to make toilets (my folks had me staring at the toilet trying to find the lines between one tooth and the next, until they told me that they were melted down first.) Watching the dog look to me for help when his ears & tail are being tugged!

Oddly, it's been harder to keep my cool at work. I can't say where that is, since there's a notice in the break room, saying that if they're mentioned, or if the logo's used, they'll crawl up our ass with so much litigation that we'd think we were pregnant with Perry Mason's bad acid trip. Suffice to say, I operate a cash register. As pathetic as that sounds, I'm actually paid pretty well, having been there for 11 years. I'll tell you, 99% of our customers are wonderful & fun to work with. Then there are those who want to get in line, then send family members to finish their shopping. “Oh, just a minute, my husband's coming with one more thing...don't look at me like that!” Then I'm the bad guy for getting impatient with these douche's. I've got to learn better customer service, and they've got to learn to be more considerate, responsible members of Society, reflecting on how their actions affect those pesky abstractions called OTHER PEOPLE. Point being, Being so jangly has brought the nerves closer to the surface, and made me oddly irritable. Anyone relate?

There's another strange affect of an impending child, a craving for mellower music. UHG! I think it started during the birthing class. A radio was on, and some pop-tart was covering Leonard Cohen's “Hallelujah.” I think I first heard The Tea Party cover it in a concert, then I really took notice when the producers of House used it for an outro sequence. Then when I heard it in the birthing class, it hit like a wave; “Damn, that's a beautiful song!” Now, I've always hated it when recording artists released their isn't-life-beautiful-now-that-I-have-a-child albums. Now, here I am, saying “Now, wasn't that a pretty ballad!” Now, the dog & I are staring out the window, waiting for our balls to come home!

“Get that man 500 cc's of Slipknot, STAT!”