You're On My Caldendar

Mars Bar,

Took the girls to the doctor to get a glimpse of their little brother today. All we got was two rubber gloves and chance to hear your heart, which was quickly drowned out by screaming related to possession of the rubber gloves.

As we left the doctor said, I'll see you in the delivery room next Friday. That just sounds way too soon. The calendar on my phone only goes ten days out and sure enough you're now on it. Under next Friday it says 'HAVE BABY'.

You have to understand that I accomplished nothing today. I spent hours on the phone with the IRS just trying to get them to fax me a letter. I took two showers. I spent thirty minutes seeing what I would look like if I parted my hair the other direction. Next Friday isn't enough time to do my work and indulge in my recommended daily allowance of idiocy.

I've done this my whole life, and history is littered with bad precedent. Whenever I swear that I'm not going to make a deadline your mom says that I always say that and then somehow get in under the wire. I guess the lesson is, if you don't want to spend your life as a magician you should never, ever pull a rabbit out of a hat. Do it once and people expect it every time. Well I'm shoulder deep this time little guy, and I'm not feeling a rabbit.

I'm genuinely afraid that by next Friday the only things I'll have pulled out are a dictation recorder, a new hairstyle, and Hitler.