We have ourselves a nursery! (Just as soon's I build the crib.)

Finally. After months of me saying I’ll do up the nursery this weekend, I finally just hunkered down and did up the nursery. Took all day Friday, all day Saturday and a good chunk of Sunday, but I did it. It’s done. There’s nothing left to do. It is a nursery that is move-in ready. If she went into labor tomorrow, and gave birth to Pokey, I wouldn’t hafta do a thing to this nursery to make it habitable for him.

Other than build the crib. That’s it. It’ll be a done deal, a fait accompli, just as soon as I build that fucking crib that I promised I’d build have build by now. But, you know, like I told Wife-asaurus when she tried to get on me bout the crib I haven’t even gotten round to building yet, ‘Progress is progress.’ She’s looking at the nursery glass as being nearly all empty cause the crib’s stacked in pieces, whereas my nursery glass is ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent full. Just that point-zero-zero-zero-zero-one left. Which is the crib. And once I get around to building that fucker, we will have a nursery which is formidable. (Also, she’s been with me long enough to know that not all my promises are gonna get kept. She should know better.)

You know, but that’s her. That’s the way she is. Can’t see the forest for the trees. (Or is it forest from the trees. I get confused.) So I had to point out to her all the things that were in place on Monday morning that were nowhere near in place Friday morning, just … seventy-two hours earlier.

The room is now freshly painted this buttery lemon color. Hell, the color might even be called buttery lemon for all I know. What the hell do I know, she’s the one picked it out, outta one of those sleeves of color strips they give you at the hardware store. Buttery lemon or lemony butter.

But it is a good color. And we got that nice bookcase on the opposite wall that’ll hold my hot wheels and matchboxes and the Curious George figure that collapses when you push the bottom of the base. The top shelf, there’s wooden blocks that spell out his name. A few things hanging on the walls, art things. You know. Drawings of cars and then some illustrations from a book of Aesop fables or something like that.

We got a gray hippo nightlight plugged in that I wish I had when I was a kid. Glen and I didn’t have nightlights. Dad put a bulb in the hallway, but that didn’t do a helluva lotta good when I was in my room. By the time I got to where I could see the bulb in the hallway, I didn’t need it anymore cause I was already where I was trying to get. (Sides, dad really just put the bulb in the hallway so he could find his way to the can without stubbing and/or breaking his toes.)

Pokey, however, will have a gray hippo to light his way.

Yeah, we got this nursery situation pretty well nailed down. All I gotta do is build this crib that came in a box that weighed a hundred and twenty pounds according to the UPS sticker thing. That goddamn UPS guy just left the box on the front stoop. So I tried lugging the thing but couldn’t even get the fucker through the front door, so what’d I hafta do? Open the thing right there on the front stoop and carry it up piece by piece.

Sapped me of my will to build the thing. Been standing there, in pieces, leaning against the wall in the corner there since Friday. But like I told Wife-asaurus, ‘The crib’ll still be there. The crib ain’t going anywhere,’ and also, until she tells me which way it’s going in that corner there, what’s the point of building it. She doesn’t know if she wants it to hug the north wall or the east wall. So … she needs to figure that out first.

Everything else is set. There’s that big steamer trunk in the corner there. That’s where baby blankets and bedding and shit like that’s gonna go. In a year, we’ll hafta worry bout what to do with it, cause it’s got sharp jagged corners that’re, uh … not exactly child-safe. But I ain’t worrying bout it til then cause the thing’s heavier than sin. It’s a real herniator, all right. It stays put in the corner til I absolutely no joke gotta move it.

Next to that’s the chair we’re gonna use for his reading chair. That’ll be where Pokey’ll get read to. I found this book at a garage sale last Saturday: ‘Farts Are Fun!’ It’s got all these drawings of animals farting and smiling. There’s one picture where a dog smiles as he farts right in this other dog’s face. The other dog’s ears go straight up like he’s alarmed as he sniffs, and if that’s not the first book we read to Pokey, I’ll be in high dudgeon. I really will.

But so the chair’s next to the trunk.

And shall he have stuffed animals? He shall have stuffed animals. A Charlie from Charlie and Lola. A lamb. A monkey. A bunny-wunny. A Puddle and Toot. My bear from when I was a kid. Wife-asaurus’ Raggedy Ann. A Marvin the Martian. A couple others that’re hidden at the bottom of the pile. Pokey will not lack for stuffed animal companionship.

Right now, he lacks a crib, but let’s not split too many hairs, okay? He’s not here yet, so what’s he need a crib right now for. I’ll build the thing by October.

We got the dresser and hamper. The ottoman for putting our feet up. There’s that rug on the floor there. That’s nice. And there you have it. There’s our nursery. All’s it’s missing is a kid (Pokey) and a crib (the one we bought and I unpacked but haven’t gotten round to building yet.)

And like I told her, the thing’d be built if life didn’t keep intervening. Friday, time slipped away from me, so I can hardly be blamed for Friday. Saturday was just an odd day all around. The less said bout Saturday the better. And I really for serious intended to build it yesterday (Sunday) til I had to go into the restaurant early to cover for Jason cause Jason was out all night drinking with the All Night Marty Party.

I pointed out to Jason that I was with them for a while Saturday night. With them for a good long while, but I had the foresight to head home when I knew I’d reached that point where the prudent thing to do’s head home. They tried to get me to join them at this weird Korean karaoke place up on Lincoln, but I told them no. ‘No, Marty Party, no, Jason, I gotta go home. Gotta get up early in the morning. Gotta build a crib.’

Then they asked me if build a crib was a euphemism or what, and I told them no. ‘No, Marty Party, no, Jason, I’m being literal. I actually have a crib to build, and if you think it’s a weird sentence to hear me say, try being me and saying it.’