The voice of reason is one I left so far behind.*

I'm sorry, but there’s nothing in my head today. No ideas, no original thoughts, just a dim buzzing and, inexplicably, “Head Over Heels” by the Go-Gos. (I hope I didn’t just put that song in your head. I hope you’re too young or old or too not-a-thirteen-year-old-girl-in-1982 to know it. If so, here it is! NOW the song’s in your head.) (I'm sorry.) (Belinda, your shirt’s falling off! Better fix that!)

*Come on! Guess where that came from!

Although I am but an empty vessel, I will soldier on. This weekend Henry went to the in-laws. If you have parents nearby who are willing to take your child away from you for days or even hours, I highly recommend it. You might think you can’t bear the separation from your beloved child for even a minute, but I’ll tell you, after the first 30 or so times you’re left weeping at Grand Central as your baby toddles away, his chubby little hand in Grandma’s, you start to feel pretty casual about it. And once your baby is four and let’s face it, not getting any younger, you might find yourself peeling out of the grandparents’ driveway, shouting, “So long, suckers!” as you take off for a weekend of sweet, sweet freedom. All weekend I found myself wondering aloud that I wasn’t pining for my baby. Of course, I also spent much of that time sharing adorable anecdotes about him to anyone who would listen. Hey, dry cleaner, want to hear about how my sweater got yogurt all over it? There’s a cute story in it! You sit down and you LISTEN.

Now he’s back, at school, while I’m in my house, swaddled in multiple sweaters. Here’s a funny story: once there was an adorable, if old, house in the suburbs. When it got cold, the wind whistled through the window frames and the door frames and the walls and probably also through the furniture. Sometimes it seemed as if it were colder inside the house than out! Fortunately, the winter was warm and sultry, thanks to pre-apocalyptic freaky weather changes, so it was only cold inside, instead of toe-losingly frigid. Then the gas bill came! And wow! The owners of the house sure didn’t know heating could cost that much! And once again, they questioned their decision to move to this god-forsaken land, this JERSEY.

Speaking of which, at some point I do intend to write about our adjustment to the new place. Because I know you’ve been aching for more information on our suburban ennui or lack thereof. Or is that sensation from all the granola you just ate?