pushing back

This is not the front door to my son's new apartment (which, if all goes according to a wobbly plan, we will move him into over the weekend), but it is the door that sits across the alley from my own former city home.  It has the kind of character I look for in old things.  It tells a story.

I'm going to push back from this desk for a few days here.  There's that apartment move-in, referenced above, to take care of.  There are the copyediting notes for Handling the Truth, just arrived.  There's cleaning galore, banking, bills to pay.  And if we don't get washed out entirely, I'll be seeing Bruce Springsteen at last on Monday night.

I need to see Bruce Monday night.

May the rain clouds spare us all, and may the drier weather come to those whose lives have been so deeply affected by Isaac.