(Half days are killers)
Last night, we brought up the idea of moving apartments to the kid. She did not like the idea, and I understand why. Her objection was that she didn’t want to leave her friends, and I knew that was coming. Having gone through the pandemic and not being able to see anyone, she now is living a rather normal childhood; school, parks, friends. (She’s just missing playdates, but I know that is coming.) For a seven-year-old, she’s living the dream. We mentioned to her that moving to a different neighborhood in the City would mean that we would have a bigger apartment to live in, and though she would be in a different school, we were still in the City and can come back and visit her friends. That didn’t sell her. To her, our little corner of Harlem is the best place in the world.
I don’t like getting older sometimes. Lately, I keep thinking and talking about the weather, which clearly is a sign that I am getting older. Such as, it was 40 degrees this morning, and it’s the end of April. As we are about to hit May, it should be warmer. I say this because the month of May is one of the reasons I still live in New York City. It’s supposed to be not too hot and not too cold. It’s a Baby Bear month! I want to put on a lite coat and sunglasses and take a walk. It’s the little things in life that make it worth living, and I need my little things, damn it!
Tottenham better beat Leicester, and West Ham needs to beat Arsenal. That’s my weekend.
What if we are living in the “fixed” timeline? What if things got so bad that people in the future went back in time and “fixed” whatever made things so bad, and this is the “better” version of things?
