Irene.

I am, frankly, shocked at what good spirits I am in right now. Last night, at midnight, my college pal and I cancelled today’s long-planned day-trip to NYC (which happens to be exactly in the middle of our two cities) because of that fickle b*tch, Irene. Although I was really excited for this trip (having created a whole map of fun things for us to do, including the M&M World store and the Central Park Zoo), I was already a little stressed out about having a non-napped toddler in the bustly city on a hot and humid day after three hours of travel and three days of solo parenting. And then, when the news people started getting all alarmist last night about evacuating New York, I started to imagine the horror show of trying to take that same non-napped toddler, after a whole day of tooling around the city, into Penn Station at rush hour on the Friday before a major hurricane and then on a probably overcrowded train, and then driving home an hour (under the best conditions — probably much more) after that.

And then I panicked. And I texted and then called my friend, getting her up out of bed, and spewing all my anxiety onto her until the line where my anxiety ended and hers began became blurry and we finally decided to bag it and reschedule for a few weeks from now. Which was sad, but as it turns out, thank god because there is no way I’d be happier in Manhattan right now than home on my couch in the air conditioning while my child naps. (My getting to sleep at 1am and his inexplicable waking at 5am didn’t help matters, either.)

So, here we are. Not evacuated or evacuating. Not in a crushing crowd (although we were at Target earlier, where I overheard a woman seethe, “Get me out of this godforsaken store!”) and feeling not at all anxious, miserable, or grouchy, which is a welcome change from my usual mood. We’re not planning to go much of anywhere for the next while, either (aside from a much-anticipated birthday party tomorrow), so Irene — bring it.

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