Playing the fool

I was sitting at the clean, industrial desk of a cubicle in a quiet office, my pen hovering over a to-do list.

I was thirty-one years old and drove a shiny black Jetta. Which on this evening, six years later, sounds absolutely precious, and a little exotic.

Almost a year after moving to Dallas, I had a public-relations job that I mostly loved, and I happily shared a wee house with one tall, handsome husband and one sweet, grizzled dog.

On sunny afternoons, of which there were many, we'd stroll down the street to our favorite pub, grab a seat on the patio, and have a few beers. We'd just, you know, hang out.

On this late Monday afternoon, I still had a few hours of work ahead of me, even though most of my cubiclemates had already gone home.

I consulted my to-do list. An interview to transcribe, an article to write, a deadline ahead. Check, check, check.

Oh, and note to self: on the way home, stop by Walgreens for tampons and condoms.

Huh, muttered I, to self. Do I need to go the bathroom again? What's this: my tenth trip down the hall today? At least? This, coming from the girl with the iron-clad bladder?

And whoo boy, am I tired. Did I really fall asleep in mid-sentence with Trey's mom the other day? And then sleep, undisturbed, for two hours? Well, it was a pretty big lunch... and it is, in fact, an incredibly comfortable chair.

Wonder if I'm coming down with something. Oh, man: I'll bet I'm coming down with something. Perfect. That's just perfect.

What the heck is wrong with me lately? My moods are all over the place. Just last week, when Sarah was in town, I was throwing a tantrum about something or other, and she spat in exasperation:

"What the heck is wrong with you lately? Are you pregnant or something?"

Crazy. I mean, yes, she's my sister, but honestly, sometimes she just...

Oh, shit. OH, shit.

No. No way. Can't be. Lesse: last period here, anniversary there...

And in that moment (pen hovering, office quiet, desk clean), a light bulb clicked on over my head, flickered for a second, then began to hum.

My bubble of panic drowned in a sea of barely guarded, giddy anticipation, with "what ifs" bobbing up all around me, and a ridiculous, delicious grin on my face.

And a few minutes later, when I screeched into the Walgreens parking lot in my shiny black Jetta, I bypassed the tampons and condoms, and headed for the pregnancy tests instead.

It was the best April Fool's Day ever.