nesting instinct, or lack thereof
Last night in the ER was hellish as predicted. At least tonight is my last overnight shift before resuming working days. Unfortunately, my schedule seems to have mostly adjusted towards the nocturnal, and I'm going to have to spend the bulk of the weekend forcing it back. Meh.
One of my tasks this weekend may be heading back to Buy Buy Baby (which I find to be a clever name for a store, if somewhat crass--why not just call it "Plush Pastel Money Sinkhole") to shop for some baby stuff. Joe's parents just mailed us a check which they earmarked for the carseat and a rocking chair, so I might head on over to the Chelsea location and check out the selection. Between being away for vacation and our hectic work schedule lately, we've kind of been slacking off in terms of preparing for baby things, but the other day I realized that we only had 14 weeks left to get everything ready, and therefore should probably get our asses into gear. The baby's room is still as empty and unprepped as the day we moved all the dining room furniture out.
Thankfully, we have some adult help. Joe's dad is coming into town next weekend to help up build some shelves, put up a wallpaper border, and hang the curtains. We were originally going to try and do it ourselves, but Joe's dad insisted. He knows better anyway, being handy like that. Or maybe he just knows that we have no idea what we're doing. To be fair, we did at least try to hang the curtains ourselves, but the wall of Cal's room by the window is made of some sort of some impenetrable diamond-hard concrete that we could not for the life of us figure out how to drill through in order to affix the rod. Heh, I said "rod."
Anyway, I have to go to work now.
Currently reading: "The Working Poor." I decided to go with the non-fiction after all. Think of this as a less irreverent, more depressing version of "Nickel and Dimed."
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