Oh crap, where'd he go?

Up until recently, watching Harrison while getting things done was a breeze. He would hang out in his bouncy chair, or in his playpen surrounded by toys. I could take my eyes off him, to write, or work, or do laundry.
But now he's all over the place. His crawling went from lurching and disorganized to pro status within a few days. Now he's working those arms and legs like a pro, exploring his environment, which is my suddenly fraught-with-hazards living room. For example, he likes to try to pull open the drawer on the coffee table; the child safety latch we installed allows him to open it just wide enough to smash his fingers, which he does. Repeatedly. Point him in a different direction and he's crawling to the window and muscling aside the dogs so he can yank on the curtain, which is secured to the wall with thumbtacks (hey, I never claimed to be Martha Stewart here). Then there's the glass door of the fireplace to bang on and when that gets boring, there are plants to mangle and attempt to eat. Even when I'm standing right over him, watching his every move, he still manages to bump his face into things, get himself wedged into tight spaces, and cram mysterious (and disgusting) floor crud into his mouth.
To top it off, I've got a lot of work coming up in the next couple of months, and I'm seriously wondering how I'm going to manage it. I can't just confine him to his playpen, jumperoo, or crib for hours at a time, just for my convenience. That's not fair to him, nor is it good for his development. I'll just have to split my attention and hope that nothing bad happens to him or to any of the readers I'll be supervising, as I try to give everyone the attention they need and deserve.