So, let’s see, when we last left our heroine, she was knee deep in snot and snuffle rags. Oh wait, that’s where we’ll find her now, but now there is no fever or delirious thoughts.
I had one really weird fever-induced dream where I was doing something I never I thought I’d do to Rush Limbaugh. And let’s just say I wasn’t all that picky in my former glory days, but Rush?? A girl does have standards.
In less lascivious news, all Loki’s current furniture is constructed and clothing, blankets, diapers, and bedding is washed and put away. In between bouts of sickness Sparky and I put together his crib, bassinet and changing table. Can I just say that when I looked at the instructions for the changing table, I said out loud “I want my Dad.”
The thing was so complicated I just wanted my Dad to come and take care of it because it hurt my brain. There were more types of screws than in the Kama Sutra with only a vague idea of the differences in length. This might have caused a slight mess up that no one will see because that side will face the wall.
He’ll need a dresser and perhaps a bookshelf, but that can wait until after next week when the room actually gets painted.
The red room will no longer be red. It will be cream. What will we call it? The cream room?
Next weekend, Loki’s room will be completed. And all will be right with my world.
Meanwhile, the cats have gotten very used to the baby stuff. They don’t seem to understand that none of this is for them, but rather for a screaming, drooling onesie of fun that will be coming round the mountain soon. Boy, will they be surprised to jump into the bassinet and find a squirming creature.
This “cat issue” has thrown my mother-in-law into a tizzy. One time a cat jumped into Sparky’s stroller and it tried to steal his breath and that is why today he’s a little dumber today than he was in the beginning. If that damn cat hadn’t jumped into the stroller for the 1.6 seconds it took her to fully freak the fuck out, Sparky would have been tapped to be a Gnome of Zurich and thus changed the history of the world. Oh, if only…
I have explained, at length and in German, how the cats are Nannies (like in Peter Pan only cats not a dog or in The Cat’s Eye – not like in Lady and the Tramp) and will sleep with him and around him, suckling from his bottles and licking his face clean. Cat spit is way better than Mom spit, I hear. I even offered to get more cats if the three we have are not enough. Mother Mutti does not know if I’m joking or not. I kind of like that.
Here they are, asleep on the job. I guess the job hasn’t started yet, but they are not concerned with impressing the boss.