At least this year's international theme will mean that I'll likely be able to get away without wearing any inane antennae or other bizarre accoutrements. I don't even own a sombrero or other piece festive ethnic headgear, so I have the perfect excuse for sidestepping the issue. Heck, they'll be lucky if I can manage to squeeze into my Summer Program tee-shirt, which had to be ordered so far in advance that I wasn't even pregnant yet. Not that the situation would have been much improved had I been aware of the Bit; I still wouldn't have been able to easily explain the need for placing an order for one shirt in elephantine size.

The fact that I'll not be around for the summer has made it rather easy for me to avoid doing much of the actual planning. Boss-Lady's been leaning much more heavily on my part-time colleague, and this doesn't bother me one bit. She's also already hired my "temporary replacement;" I hope she's nice, because I'd hate to see myself replaced by somebody irritating. If it were just for the summer, I wouldn't be bothered, but she'll probably have a fairly decent shot at being able to simply step into the position permanently once I formally announce my intentions of leaving.

Anyway, the staff meeting should be much more simple this year, since the other children's librarian is much, well, quieter than me. She's far less likely to turn things into a really big show, and not at all prone to delivering speeches. My prediction is that she'll simply and quickly read through the programmed events, then have everybody do the simple craft - Matrushka dolls made from plastic Easter eggs. We plan to pre-prime the eggs with watered glue and sandpaper, then let the staff decorate them that morning as they see fit. Three different sizes of eggs should fit into one another nicely, and everybody should be quite pleased with the result. The whole meeting should be over in about twenty minutes. Hmmm...

Not my problem. This year, I get to be the one who stands quietly in the background and passes out supplies as needed. I won't be forced into the spotlight, not looking myself like a giant Matrushka doll in a too-tight tee-shirt. I will do the work required of me, but I refuse, I say, refuse to start feeling guilty and end up making a spectacle of myself trying to drum up excitement for a program in which I won't even be able to take part. Not this time.

I think I'll be able to resist the temptation, anyway. Then again, I didn't plan to make a fool of myself last year, either. We'll see what happens, I suppose.

Anyway, I'm hot and I'm grumpy. I had a patron earlier this evening with whom I reached levels of frustration heretofore unexperienced in my time at this library. She was having me search for the name of a specific bishop of an itty-bitty diocese in a particular year and was leaning over my shoulder, shouting as I searched: "Try that one! No, no, slow down...click there! No, not there, the other one! Have you looked at that one yet? Can you look again? What about..." until I was literally ready to stand up and physically assault her. Luckily, I know my limits and was able to call out to another librarian in a carefully schooled voice to come and help me look, at which point I was able to slowly wean myself off the case.

I'm aggravated with everybody today, though, even when I don't have a good reason. Normally, the sight of somebody trying to log onto their Hotmail account with their street address wouldn't bother me greatly, but today it has me trying to refrain from pulling them away from the machine and shouting, "We're not going to start this tonight!" I empathized with the alligator in the storytime song today that finally snapped up its teasing monkey neighbors, one by one. Something in my voice must have changed, too, as the little boy who always runs through the library finally stopped to listen, wide-eyed, to me when I called out for him to walk, please. I don't think I yelled, but he certainly tread much more lightly around me for the rest of his visit.

Oh, and I'm about to go put an end to the increasingly loud giggles of a couple of teenage chat-room denizens. Excuse me.

(Wow! I didn't even have to say a word; apparently, my icy gaze alone is now also much more effective. Maybe I'm mutating into a librarian-monster.)

An online friend mentioned some time ago that increased irritability can be a sign of impending labor. If this is true, then I'm either about to give birth prematurely or (far more likely) I can look forward to a few very, very long weeks of this. I don't know which prospect frightens me more. Eric will be so pleased.

Track down a changing table/dresser.

We thought we might have had this one sewn up this past weekend, when we were planning to visit a nursery furniture consignment shop, but the shop apparently moved to the other side of town sometime after they printed the brochure Eric found. Nuts.

Finish unpacking.

Pretty self-explanatory. My home visit with the midwives is next week, so we have until then. Last night we made good headway on the kitchen/laundry area.

Begin taking my prenatal aquatics class.

Starts tonight, actually, but I had to work my last Monday night shift and therefore miss it. Wednesday will be my first class.

Do lots and lots of laundry, including diapers and baby clothes.

Aargh.

Buy my birth kit.

Actually mostly predicated on number two, up there, since at the moment we can't locate the midwife packet that delineates what we'll need to buy. I'll also have to buy some disposable linens and "toast" them for sterility.

Find some nursing bras.

And while I'm at it, attempt to discern my actual bra size these days. I know it's larger than what I'm currently trying to use...

Finally purchase the gosh-darn digital camera.

I think we've finally decided on the Sony, since I found some really good online deals. Nice late Christmas present, no?

Have the carseat installed.

I think we'll be taking the car either to the police station or the Saturn dealer for this. Of course, that would be predicated on us getting the Saturn back from the shop, where it is once more vacationing. (Eric says we are never buying another Saturn again.)

Deal with my mother-in-law.

Did I mention that she's planning a visit in a couple of weeks?

Go quietly insane.

Assuming I can manage the "quietly" part (largely a concession to my close-to-the-brink husband), this is the only item on my list for which I can almost guarantee success. Yay, me!