It looks very much like a nursery now, so that's cool. There is still a fine layer of Andres-cruft on many of the surfaces, so I will not take pictures at this time, but once that's gone and the actual baby stuff has been put away I should probably get a shot or two for posterity. "The cleanest this room will ever be again."
We should pull the tags off a few newborn outfits and maybe a bigger one, and wash them so they're ready. Are you supposed to wash sheets and things before a baby touches them, too, or are they considered safe since they've been wrapped in plastic and not handled as much as clothes probably have? I am not sure how much of this prewashing thing is paranoia; I don't generally bother with my own clothes. It is also time to clean the car and install the car seat. (For some reason, people keep looking at me funny about this one, but the car seat is here, it has to be installed correctly before they let you take the baby home from the hospital in it, and my car predates the LATCH system, so I want to make sure it works before we have an extremely tight time limit on getting it sorted out, just in case we need to get some kind of adapter for the seatbelt or replace anything.)
I have also been occasionally playing Youtube videos of crying babies at the dog. This is one of the things that books and articles about preparing pets for incoming infants recommend that makes me go "Really?" but I figured I'd see how he reacted. This is how he reacts:
1. Look up, cock ears forward, focus intently in direction of sound.
2. "Am I supposed to... do something about that?"
3. Get up, trot purposefully toward sound.
4. Observe that sound is coming from one of those glowing rectangle things.
5. Sigh, lie down again.
6. Eye human reproachfully.
So I don't know that this is a particularly useful way of teaching him to be unbothered by crying, but it is kind of funny to watch. It's one of those perils of a smart dog: he knows darned well that recorded noises are Not His Problem, but whether this will translate to the live version is anyone's guess.
For reference, we are at T minus approximately two and a half weeks here (or longer; could be longer; or shorter, possibly, although I think that's less likely). Tomorrow is my last day of work, so soon I will be bored during the day and entirely in favor of people coming by for tea. The tea shelf is overflowing since I brought home my work stash, so assistance in finishing off the nearly-empty kinds would be actively useful.
 "Weasel help": the opposite of help, despite the best intentions of the weasel help provider; coined by ferret owners but useful in many other situations as well.
 Earthquake country. The tall bookshelves are all securely screwed to the walls. (We do still need to get around to doing something for these desk hutches; they're going to be a bit complicated.)