In my haste to get out the door I forgot to grab some change for the bus. This "forced" me to go get a cup of coffee. So I went over to Cafe Roma, which is a bit closer to the bustop. I will tell you now, do not go to Roma when it's possible to go to Trieste. I paid almost 3 dollars for an overly strong (and I like strong) cup of coffee, served to me by a surly girl who never smiles even though I know she recognizes me. Always go to Trieste.
Speaking of Trieste, there is a cop who hangs out there, both on duty and off. He wears an older style police hat and carries an old wooden...police stick? I forget what they are called. We call him the Vintage Cop. I bet he was up at the corner a few minutes ago where there was a "police action". The past five minutes may have been the most trying of new motherhood because before, when there was some sort of police or fire incident, I could just run out the door and go look. It's some sort of genetic disease inheirited from my dad that forces me to go out and wittness whatever the police or firemen are doing. But now, the only way I could follow David out the door (which is weird, because he usually believes in staying out of other people's business) would be to pick up a sleeping Austin and carry him out with me. Obviously, for many MANY reasons that would be dumb. Next time I just have to be faster than David.
So instead of heading up the hill to take a peek, I just paced. I walked down our steps to the sidewalk then back up and into our apartment to make sure Austin was alright. I did this like 14 times. I was wearing my sister's old lifegaurd shorts and a sweatshirt. I guess I have no pride left. Austin slept all the way through the whole thing. I took this picture earlier today...it's a reflection in our mirror. See the little hand prints down at the bottom?
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