Roby was two weeks late. That gave Abby and I loads of time to kill. Any day might’ve been the day, and we hoped it would be. So we walked and ate spicy food and treated ourselves. We called it fun week. Getting as much oxytocin in Abby’s system was the goal, and we did that with walks and movies and sweets. We also called it bad week, depending on the calories of what we were enjoying. 

I’ll always have a fondness for Autumn because it’s unfathomably beautiful. It’s beautiful and it’s the season when Roby was born. It’s beautiful, it’s the season when Roby was born, and it’s when I got to spend fun week with Abby, waiting eagerly for our daughter to show up.

I’m a bit tired, and I have poop on my hands, but unless it gets tough in a hurry, I’m having the time of my life. There is nothing I would rather be doing than bringing Abby food and changing diapers. 

I didn’t feel like my life was purposeless and adrift before. Certainly not. But by way of comparison to now? Maybe a little purposeless and adrift. 

I feel luckier than is reasonable. 

Bozo