Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of February 25, 2018
• My pregnant wife could pop that kid out at any given moment. People keep asking me if I’m scared or freaking out or panicking. No. None of those things. I’m ready to get on with it. I have been for months. Let’s get this little turd out and get on with the New World Order. The sooner he’s here, the sooner he’ll be old enough to come sailing with his old man and have a conversation without shitting himself. That’s what I’m looking forward to.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.