Well, here we are again. Three weeks into another writing drought. The sad truth is that there hasn't been a lot of time to write since Bridget the WonderSitter, who has looked after the boys for most of TwoBert's life, left us. She finished school and uprooted herself to America's Wang, leaving behind the greatest city on the planet in favor of stultifying heat and giant, flying cockroaches. So for the past four weeks I worked on a project from 8am to 1pm and boywrangled from 2 to 7; Mama, vice versa. When dinnertime came it was amazing either one of us was able to stand, much less form a sentient thought.
The boys are enjoying the hell out of their summer vacations, and finally, wonderfully, mercifully, so am I. My project is over, and the boys and I will celebrate the end of the second-wettest June in LOD history with a trip to the beach, where the boys will spend hours hurling themselves at the waves and counting their wipeouts.
But there is better news. Tomorrow, Mama and the boys are moving to my neighborhood. The new apartment is larger, cheaper, and closer, and I'm sort of over the moon about it. Because the trip to see my boys is going from a 10-mile ride to a 10-minute walk.
I hope I don't sprain anything from all the fist-pumping.