It's Sunday afternoon and it's a lung-collapsing 15 degrees outside! Peggy and Charlotte took the train yesterday morning to West Chester, PA to go visit one of my sisters-in-law, leaving myself and little Oliver -- the menfolk -- to hold down the fort. It's now about twenty-four hours since they left, and Oliver and I -- despite both having colds -- are still holding up reasonably well (although the apartment looks a bit like the aftermath of a GWAR show). Oliver's knee-deep in his first nap of the day at the moment. I should wake him up at 10 a.m. (we've been up since about 6 a.m., both of us congested and feeling lousy), but being that it's so freakin' cold outside, there's precious little for us to do. I might just let him keep sleeping.
We did venture out into the cruel, unrelenting elements yesterday, albeit very briefly. It was far too frigid for the swings at the playground, so we basically decamped to my local coffee shop, the Newsbar, for a brief change of scenery. Beyond that and a trip to the grocery store, myself and my little almost-one-year old sidekick have been bored silly. My fellow rugrat-wrangling pals, Sean and Sara both called to set up playdates, but Oliver and I have been feeling so yucky that it didn't seem prudent. My friend, Steve, did swing by last night. After I put Oliver down, we ordered up some Chinese food, put away several bottles of Tsingtao and watched "The Taking of Pelham One Two Three" (inarguably one of the greatest New York City movies ever committed to film). Oliver woke at 3 a.m and could not be persuaded to sleep again until an hour or so later. It was an unrestful night.
My wife and daughter come home later today. Hopefully. As I type this, Oliver is now waking and babbling in the next room.
It's still only 10 a.m.
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