A List

Things that I expected during pregnancy:
1. Weight gain
2. Morning sickness
3. A baby at the end of it

Things I most certainly did NOT expect during pregnancy:
1. Nose bleeds.
2. The 16 trips per day to the bathroom because of the whole 4-inch-tall-person-living-on-top-of-my-bladder thing. And also, the unfortunate effect of sneezing.
3. The strange, baby-related dreams which, oddly enough, also always include an axe murderer. Last night, for example, I dreamed that I had five babies and one of them turned into an adult, even though the other four were still babies. And he said that he felt ignored his entire childhood, so he killed the other babies and then turned into a cat. And then, the alarm rang, and I'm just supposed to wake up and go about my day? LIKE NORMAL?
4. The crazy advice that people give me. And also, the fact that most of this advice ends with "If you don't follow this advice, YOUR BABY WILL DIE."

A Tale of Two Eyes

-I went to the eye doctor today. Amazingly, he did not smell like onions OR garlic, as most of my previous optometrists have. And also? He didn't try to balance himself on his little stool by putting his hands on my legs. Which means that I am now his NUMBER ONE FAN.

-I really, really hope that The Bug has McMoose's eyes because my eyes? Yeah, they kinda suck. My left one is getting steadily worse and the right one is developing astigmatism, for crying out loud. I find this highly unfair because I was told that eating carrots would be good for my eyes, and as a result, I made myself develop a taste for them and I'm STILL going blind. Meanwhile, McMoose, who would rather be eaten alive by canaries than eat a carrot has perfect vision.

-I always wonder how well doctors read the information forms that you fill out and today, I got my answer when the optometrist decided that he wanted to dilate my pupils. I asked if that was safe to do while I was pregnant, to which he responded with an "Oh! You're pregnant?!" Um, yes...that's why I checked the "Yes" box next to the question "Are you pregnant?" on the form. Way to pay attention, doc. As it turns out, it's not safe to do while pregnant, which suited me just fine because (a) the solution that they use to dilate my pupils always makes my eyes hurt for hours afterwards and (b) the wrap-on sunglasses they give you to drive with are super dorky. Plus, the disclaimer that says something to the effect of "While most people can drive after pupil dilation, as long as they keep these sunglasses on, some people do die in fiery car crashes so please don't hold us liable" makes me a little bit leery of the whole thing.

A Dead Bird And Its Aftershocks

I was hit by a dead bird today. I was walking out to get lunch and I passed under a tree and something fell out and hit my shoulder and as it turned out, that "something" was a dead cardinal. A very pretty, dead cardinal. But its attractiveness doesn't change the fact that a diseased bird was within 6 inches of my face. Of course, since I tend to jump to the most far-fetched conclusions available, I immediately decided that it died of bird flu. Granted, there's a lot I don't know about bird flu. For example, what kind of birds are susceptible to it? I'm thinking cardinals are probably not the most likely carriers. And also, what's its prevalence in North Carolina? My guess would be zero. And finally, how is it transmitted? I have no clue--but I'm guessing that it ISN'T transmitted by dead birds hitting people on the shoulder. Right? So I'm fine. RIGHT?

But I'm thinking that at the very least, it's at least a bad omen for the rest of my day. I mean, it's considered bad luck to walk under a ladder or to see a black cat crossing your path, but almost being knocked out by a dead bird is perfectly okay? I don't think so. If I had to guess, I'd say that the omen is that you'll be faced with strange things for the remainder of your day, because here's what happened after the dead bird incident:

-About 5 minutes later, I got to Bruegger's and asked for beef chili, which they didn't have for the first time in 3 months. Instead, they offered me chicken chili. Thinking that they probably tasted the same, I said okay. As it turns out, chicken chili? Is WHITE. And has some strange beans in it that are definitely not kidney beans. And the chicken is cooked to the point that it kind of disintegrates into the soup, so really, it's not chili so much as it is baby food. However, by the last spoonful, it had grown on me and I might try it again next week. Maybe.

-About 40 minutes later, I asked the printer to print something for me AND IT DID! I know that doesn't seem out of the ordinary, but if you knew my printer, you'd realize just how magnificently unusual it is for the darn thing to do what you ask, when you ask, THE FIRST TIME you ask.

-About 90 minutes later, I got stuck between floors in the elevator. I've been expecting this to happen since the first time I rode in this particular elevator because judging by its shakiness and groan-iness, it's very possible that this was actually Otis' prototype of an elevator, but the fact remains that it happened TODAY, and not, say, two years ago.

So I've decided that (a) yes, having a dead bird fall on you IS an omen, but (b) it's not necessarily a BAD omen. Because after all, I liked the soup (in the end), the printer did something good (for once), and instead of dying a fiery death in the elevator, I pushed the emergency button and a maintenance guy came and fixed it (very, very quickly). And best of all? No signs of the bird flu (yet).

A Lacuna, If You Will

Every Tuesday afternoon, we have a lab group meeting, where my three co-workers and I all update our advisor (and each other) on what we've accomplished that week, as well as receive our tasks for the next week. Except that for the past three weeks, when it gets to be my turn to give a progress report or receive new tasks, the conversation has gone something like this:

Advisor: Anisha, you don't really have anything to do right now, do you?
Me: No. Not really.
Advisor: Okay.

And then, the meeting continues and I never actually get new tasks. So I spend the next week just kind of hanging out and reorganizing my desk, all the while listening to my three co-workers talk about how they have SO MUCH TO DO and WORK IS SO BUSY and THEY NEVER HAVE ANY FREE TIME. And, um...I feel a little bit guilty. Because I have (lots of) free time. And nothing to do. And I'm in no way, shape, or form even remotely busy. So to make myself feel better, I rearrange the office and straighten up our collection of snow globes and yesterday? I cleaned out the fridge AND microwave. And if I had a duster, I'd probably dust off all the filing cabinets and bookshelves.

Of course, I COULD spend this time finishing the latest edits to my proposal. Or I COULD be researching the term paper that's due in 2 weeks. Or I COULD be writing the mini-paper that's due TOMORROW. Instead, I think I'll re-hang all the posters.

Dental Diatribe

About two months after McMoose and I started dating, he revealed to me a great and lasting distaste for all things related to dental care and ever since then, I've been trying to get him to go to a dentist. Because his teeth? They're brown. And they have a grid-like set of lines on them. And I wouldn't be all that surprised if they all fell out of his head and he had to start wearing dentures. Except that he wouldn't go to the dentist to get the dentures, so he'd probably just wear the plastic Halloween costume teeth. (Which actually would be pretty cool).

So when we got engaged (almost 16 months ago, mind you), I told him that people die of heart disease EVERY DAY and dental health is (somehow) related to heart disease and if he didn't go to the dentist, he'd die by the age of 31. And he looked at me skeptically. And we argued about it CONSTANTLY. Because if he dies at the age of 31, I will be left with 1 dog, 2 cats, and at LEAST 1 child. And probably a mortgage and student loans. And then, I'll die, just from the sheer stress of it and then, the dog will go to a pound and the cats will be evicted and will probably get run over by a car on the highway and the kid will be sent to an orphanage, where he/she will have to pay off room and board, PLUS the outstanding mortgage and student loans by working in the circus. AND ALL BECAUSE MCMOOSE WON'T GO TO THE FREAKING DENTIST.

Finally, at the beginning of this year, I decided that the best way to quit arguing about it was to come up with a Dentist Deadline. So after discussing it for a while longer, it was decreed that the Dentist Deadline would be December 31st, 2008 and that by this date, McMoose would have gone to the dentist. Now...I don't know if you've looked at the calendar recently, but right now? It's November 18th. Which leaves us just about a month and a half until the Dentist Deadline. And not only has McMoose not yet been to the dentist, but when I oh-so-gently reminded him about the looming deadline, he replied with, "I know, but it's just so hard to find one." Because, you know, there isn't a dentist's office in EVERY SINGLE STRIP MALL IN AMERICA.

And the ironic part about all of this? My right incisor hurts and I would give ANYTHING to go to the dentist, but I have no dental insurance.

Resolutely Ignoring the Problem

Lately, we've been having this problem at work with things being printed out and not being claimed. Technically, this printer is only supposed to be used for work or school related things by people who belong to our lab group, and since there are only three of us, you'd think it would be fairly easy to match the material being printed with the person doing the printing. As it turns out, you'd be wrong about that.

Last Thursday, before leaving work, I took all the unclaimed papers and put them in the recycling bin. I happen to know for a fact that nobody was here on Friday. And yet, I walked in this morning to find no fewer than 32 pieces of paper with smiley faces on them. And another 4 that said, "Close this screen before opening document."

So I'm thinking that either (a) elves are coming in at night and printing out crazy things to try to get us in trouble or (b) our printer has accidentally been hooked up to a random computer in the building by mistake. I'm kind of hoping for scenario A because if it's scenario B, I'm going to have to go talk to the IT people. And really, I'd rather walk through about a mile of fire, followed by another mile of broken glass. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but for once, I'm actually being serious. Because the IT people here? They HATE ME. With a deep and unending passion. Because the last two times I went down there, my complaints were as follow:

Time 1, about 4 months ago: my co-worker was typing something on his fancy computer with two flat screen monitors and suddenly, smoke started coming out of one of them.

Time 2, about three weeks ago: keys started falling off my laptop keyboard and then I'd accidentally put them back in the wrong spot and as a result, everything I typed was completely incomprehensible.

And now, I'm supposed to go tell them that there are random smiley faces being printed on our printer? And that no one is actually sending these TO the printer? Wouldn't that be similar to going to a neurologist and saying that you're having seizures because a ghost is trying to possess you and you're fighting back? Because to me, these two problems sound pretty similar in terms of their UTTER RIDICULOUSNESS.

An Uncommon Cold

I currently have my first cold of the past 20 months. Which is pretty impressive because before that? I caught EVERY SINGLE BUG that came along, which meant that I was sick for approximately 25 days out of every month. Apparently, my immune system finally decided to step up and do its job and as a result, the past 20 months have been amazing. So when I woke up with a sore throat a few days ago, I was very nervous, especially since I had heard that having any kind of illness while pregnant is pure hell. But so far? It's really not so bad. In fact, as perverse as this might be, I'm kind of enjoying it. I get to sit here, wrapped in a blanket, drinking GALLONS of hot (decaf) tea and hot chocolate. Plus, my temperature is finally at a toasty (and normal!) 98.6 degrees instead of hovering somewhere around 97 degrees, which means that all of my extremities are AT A COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE. Imagine that.

I'm sure it helps (a lot) that this as colds go, this one is fairly mild. Sure, I sneeze and cough and sound (and look) pitiful, but there's no fever and no crazy congestion and I have to say that after being nauseous for two months straight? This is EASY. I can still eat things and drink things and walk around and just generally act like a human being instead of a grouchy zombie. Plus, the headache that had been my constant companion for the past couple of weeks has taken a hiatus, which is just the icing on the cake.

And as long as this mild cold STAYS a mild cold and doesn't morph into some crazy strep/pneumonia thing, we'll be golden. And also, I hope the cough doesn't get much worse because...um...what do you do for a cough if you can't take cough medicine???