The kids and I are heading out. After school, we will drive north, braving traffic and more traffic in pursuit of New York City.
Robbi is staying here. She has not been invited. In fact, she is the one who requested that we exit the premises.
Apparently, she has some work to do and doesn’t want to be disturbed. If you are thinking that “work” is a euphemism for lying on the couch eating rocky road while watching Anne of Green Gables, you are not alone.
The kids can hardly wait to leave. As soon as they learned of the scheme, they dragged the suitcases out of the closet and started “packing.”
Eventually, I evicted them and packed actual clothes. But August, wanting to make sure that he is not somehow left behind, chose tonight’s sleeping location most deliberately.
I’m trying to decide whether or not to leave him in there when I pack the car tomorrow. One might argue that the drive would be considerably quieter were he thus contained.
I’ll post stories from the city.
And as is my usual request, should you see Robbi staggering around the streets of Chestertown in a calorie-deprived stupor, please give her a cookie and an affirming word and point her in the direction of the barn.
