Chapter 83.4: A Few Moments Alone

The classical music has soothed the savage babies. The wife is out for an hour or so. And the coffee still tastes good. I will try to keep from wasting too much time from the one day when I can accomplish something on my own.

Later, in between diapers and bottles, I'll mow the lawn, which has grown once again to jungle lengths. Till then, however, I'll enjoy the skirl of the cicadas and crickets from my air conditioned home — pushing back the annoying question of how I'll pay for such amenities — and see what else I can accomplish in the time allotted.

How's your day?

Chapter 83.3: Summer in the City

The streets of New York City stink of garbage this morning. Scents of fish and piss and withering whatchamacallit grab onto the sticky humid air and embed themselves deep into people's nostrils. The occasional open door at this hour already has the air conditioner blasting out onto the sidewalk — an all too brief respite as I continue walking groggily to work.

I slept well on the train this morning as a pretty woman in a sundress read her Jodi Picoult beside me. Dreams of babies crying and parents consoling them. Diaper and feed.

I need my coffee. I need to sit for a minute or two. I need to clear the air. Welcome back, summer.