This morning, I woke up and decided to take a pregnancy test. I have no idea why I thought that would be a good idea; it's not like I don't already know what the test is going to say.
So, I went to the bathroom, took the test (read: peed on a stick), and set it on the counter while I brushed my teeth. The box said results could take up to two minutes, so I brushed my teeth really well, staring at the display screen the entire time.
It didn't take long before a picture of a book popped up on the screen. Yes, it was a book. I picked up the test and shook it a few times, and banged it against the bathroom sink. That book stayed right where it was. Puzzled by this, I went in search of the instruction booklet that came with the test, figuring that's what the test was telling me to do. Perhaps I forgot a step? But, anyone who's taken one of these things before knows there's not much you can screw up or forget to do.
The instruction manual was missing. I decided I'd research the issue at work. Still, as I was getting ready, a little light started growing inside of me. It wasn't negative. There was a picture of a book, staring straight at me. And then, my imagination started running wild. Perhaps I'm pregnant with the next Shakespeare or Dickens? Perhaps a Bronte sister has been reincarnated? Mary Faulkner? Hell, I thought, I'd even settle for a Danielle Steele or Nicholas Sparks. The thought of being the mother to such a prolific writer made me dizzy to think about. And, perhaps unjustly, got my hopes up a little too high.
I got into work and the first thing I did was find the E.P.T. website. But, I couldn't find anything referencing a book icon on the webpage, so I called Johnson & Johnson to determine if I had a literary genius growing inside me. Because you know, telemarketers know everything. It didn't surprise me when they told me that the book icon that showed up on the test this morning was an error message. And perhaps, I'll admit I knew that all along. The daydream I had for a brief moment this morning was dashed by "Felicia," who promised to send me a $20.00 E.P.T. coupon in the mail for my troubles.
Still, it wasn't negative. And, for someone who's spent a small fortune on negative pregnancy tests, that means more than you can imagine.
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