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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.