Book in the oven

You're late. Not for school, church, or a party (you're always late for those, but that's the fault of your own kids ™ slow-pokiness).   No, you're that other kind of late, the one that brings with it a host of emotions: nervous, hopeful, anticipatory, and flat-out terrified. You take the most panic-inducing test on earth.   And you wait.   Will it say the P word and change your life forever?   Will it say Not Pregnant , and send you on your way with dashed hopes, huge relief, or something in between? Three minutes is up!   You rush to the bathroom, gingerly grasp the stick, and force your eyes to see the ¦book? That's right, a book.     I took the test, and it showed me a book.   This is not a top-of-the-line test which requires some care and knowledge on the part of the test-taker.   This is not even the ordinary look-for-a-matching-line test. This is the Pregnancy Test for Dummies: it either says Pregnant or Not Pregnant.   Impossible to misinterpret.   Foolproof. And yet, I got a book. What could this mean?   Am I pregnant with a future professor? The test is trying to tell me something; I just have to figure out what, exactly, that little window is saying. But I’m stuck.   If this is supposed to be the Test for Dummies, I wish it would actually presume I ™m a dummy.   I don't have the Mona Lisa to help me crack the Pregnancy Code.   If I need to retake the test, why can't it tell me, Retake test?   I would even have accepted, You did it wrong, dummy.   Anything but the ambiguity of a book! Wait! I was at the library this morning.   Perhaps the test is a window on my past.   What else does it know?  Can I pay it to keep quiet?  Don't listen to that pregnancy test.   I did so clean the bathroom today ¦er ¦yesterday ¦er, make that the day before?   Yikes.   Or it could be a reminder, a warning that I still haven't cracked the spine on the reading for Book Club.   That would be convenient, a reminder on a stick.   If only I’d had that pregnancy test when we forgot my mother-in-law's birthday this summer!   On second thought, how would it depict that?   And do I want to know? Or maybe it's a prediction, an omen.   Am I going to give birth to an evil librarian?   Bwhahahaha!   But a book seems so innocuous.   Someday, I will ¦cue wild drumroll ¦read a book without happy rhymes and print a half-inch high?   Oooh, spooky.   Rosemary’s library card, anyone? It could just mean that I need to read the instruction booklet better.   That’s boring, though.   Besides, I threw away the instructions last month in a fit of hormonal annoyance when the test came out negative…so that’s no help. Next month, though, I’ll be smart.   I ™ll save myself mental confusion by buying The Test For Those Who Are Dumb, But Not Dumb Enough To Buy The Dummies Tests.   I ™ll take the line-matching test.   I ™ll check the window.   Will I see that parallel line?   Will the box be empty?   No.   There will be a line.   But it will be perpendicular. What ridiculous symbols have your pregnancy tests turned up? Contributor: Christina from The Twisting Kaleidoscope Christina is the overworked and underpaid servant (read: mother) of the Maiden, age three.   She blogs, writes, and changes her Facebook status ten times a day in a desperate attempt to ignore the stack of dishes on the counter.   When said dishes smash on the floor, she has new fodder for blogging.   And the cycle continues.