When
· Naughties
· · 2006
· · · June
· · · · 13 (2 entries)

Wrong Again · I re­peat­ed­ly ad­vised Jonathan not to al­low com­ments on his blog; “You’re an of­fi­cer of a pub­lic com­pa­ny, dammit,” I said, “the trolls and stock-pumpers and nazi pe­dophiles will have a field day, you’ll have to have three shifts of watchdogs.” Shows you how much I know; check out the com­ments on A Roof in Mid­town Man­hat­tan. Yeah, some are ob­vi­ous, par­tic­u­lar­ly at the top, but there are re­al sur­pris­es as you read on down. Got­ta get that on­go­ing com­ment cor­ral on the air.
 
Symptoms · Of stress and lack of sleep, I mean. Se­cond kids are eas­ier, but when she re­fus­es to feed and then re­fus­es again and screams tiny screams of hot rage at your at­tempt­s, and won’t stop and won’t eat, and you’re not get­ting much sleep, and the house is be­ing ren­o­vat­ed, and you’re hoard­ing your ra­tion of lu­cid­i­ty, it comes out in the odd­est ways. I drove way too fast to the su­per­mar­ket to beat their phar­ma­cy clos­ing time, re­al­ly need­ing a pre­scrip­tion filled; made it with min­utes to spare, and when I walked in­to the mostly-empty store, some­one had turned up the mu­sic and the wild old elec­tric Lay­la was play­ing: Let’s make the best of the sit­u­a­tion... (y­ou know the rest of that verse) and it made me cry for my five-day-old. Oh, and one more thing: wom­en have it hard­er, way hard­er. [P.S. The baby’s fine, gain­ing weight, grunt­ing re­as­sur­ing­ly in her bassinet as I write this; the big pic­ture is OK.]
 
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