Sometimes I have dreams that totally make sense, and yet, totally don't. Like a few nights ago, I dreamed that I had a Hep C patient that self-extubated in the OR in the middle of surgery. And then as I was scrambling around, getting my propofol on the line and getting ready to re-intubate, the patient got up off the table and started chasing me around the room, attacking me and ripping out pieces of my flesh his bare hands. And also, for some reason, the patient was a cyclops.
Now, the first few parts of this dream I can well understand. I'm nervous about dealing with emergencies in the OR, and I'm nervous about catching Hep C or some other such communicable disease from my patients. In fact, I'd just had a Hep C positive patient the day before, so it makes even more sense that it was on my mind. But A CYCLOPS? That I do not understand.
(Trivia factoid! In sixth grade, my class put on a play of Homer's "The Odyssey" and I played the part of the cyclops. It was the part that I asked for, because I thought it would be fun. All the other girls wanted to be either Penelope or Calypso or one of the sirens, because, you know, they're all pretty and such, but did Penelope or Calypso or the sirens get to wear a costume made out of a PAINTED GARBAGE BAG with a giant PAPER-MACHE EYE that gets STABBED with a STICK? I think not! And say such lines as, "My eye! My eye! I'M BLIND!" with fake blood and everything? I THINK NOT!)
Today we put the finishing touches on Cal's play pavilion. Truly it is a baby cage for kings.
The "finishing touches" that I speak of are the two panels that constitute the fourth wall of the square. You see, the Superyard XT (the finest in plastic baby containment devices) only comes with six panels, forcing you to make a baby cage in the shape of a hexagon. I don't know what shape your living room is, but in our right-angled world, a hexagon is not a very easy shape to fit, well, anywhere. And yes, I supposed you could make a very long, skinny rectangle with six panels, but that shape is a little too coffin-like for my taste, and it doesn't take a meeting of Chinese grandmothers to tell me that putting our baby in a coffin-shape is BAD LUCK. Personally, I think that offering six panels is just a scam to get people to buy the Superyard XT extension set, and that's exactly what we ended up doing. Damn you, successful scam!
The establishment of the Play Pavilion has made me realize that we have truly crossed over. This is no longer an apartment for two adults and an infant, it is Baby Wurld. Where everything is colorful and padded and non-toxic, and you cannot stand anywhere without being in arm's reach of a spit-up rag or a box of wet wipes. Which may not sound terribly appealing, but actually is a step up from our previous design scheme, Dog-Chewed Ikea.
"Buy more teething rings. And toys that make beeping noises, I like those. YOU ARE POWERLESS AGAINST ME. Obey or I'll make more cute faces."
Currently reading: "Stolen Lives." Gripping. Sometimes I ask myself how I would hold up under torture, and the answer is: badly. Next up at bat, "The Year of Magical Thinking," because I like reading books that get me good and depressed. Also, it was next to the register at the bookstore, so why not.