Here's your hat
I don't want to brag or anything but there is currently half a gallon of human urine cooling in my refrigerator.
Some people celebrate Valentine's Day with chilled champagne. But I — no stodgy traditionalist, I! — keep the romance alive with a 24-hour urine collection. This involves commandeering a bathroom and barring all other entrants; peeing only into a plastic receptacle that the nurses, with unpardonable whimsy, insist on calling a hat; trudging to the refrigerator to retrieve a 2500 mL narrow-necked jug; carefully emptying my chapeau — I like that much better — into the jug, and occasionally elsewhere; returning the jug to the frosty confines of the fridge; and then compulsively sterilizing every surface in the bathroom. (Later comes the compulsive sterilization of everything in the refrigerator.)
All towards the goal of establishing a baseline in the event that I develop pre-eclampsia later in this pregnancy. In no way do I mean to suggest that pregnancy, at least the way I do it, lacks a certain glamour. But I do have to wonder whether, you know, Halle Berry or Julia Roberts has ever had the pleasure.