I have new lenses in my old frames. I can now see through dimensions. This new clarity is a little nauseous making. I may have to increase my monitor resolutions to shrink the type. It all looks enormous today.
I wish the daily activities could be made more interesting, but we have a distinct pattern these days. When I got home, Your Sis asked immediately if we could take a walk. Out we walked. The baby is a lady magnet; a passer-by turned around to peek into the stroller. I'm pretty sure it was the wife of an actor from two of my recent plays. I was also stopped this weekend by a motorist I didn't recognize. It was only when I saw his car parked next door that I realized he was my neighbor, the trooper who saved my bacon during the first bad snowstorm. I am dumb. This cannot be blamed on a lack of sleep. I'm not missing that much compared to her. She gets up more often because she has to pump anyway, and she argues she might as well feed the baby. I will have to pull my weight in other ways.
After a meal of leftovers eaten hurriedly between baby feedings, I cracked open a box of cigars. A coworker gave them to me yesterday on my return to the office. I hadn't smoked anything for years, and I never smoked a cigar. Your Sister has never smoked period. I walked her through it, and we posed for pictures. I hadn't realized how much of a chore it is to smoke a whole cigar. My brain never connected the relative girth of a stogie to a cigarette and the effort required to go through one quickly. We didn't finish ours. They are now in the compost bucket waiting to soon spoil our already coffee-addled compost worms. Maybe my twinges of nausea are a cigar hangover.
We continue to get lots and lots and lots of free formula mixes, and we add each new parcel to the formula ziggurat in the nursery.
Picture of the Day
Early German battlefield communications. They put their faith on backpack dreamcatchers and wonder why they lost two wars.