Today I made the long walk from the hospital to our home on Goshen. The difficulty of the course was only made harder thanks to the bag I carried with me which was full of things Heather didn’t want staying with her at the hospital. One such item was her beloved teddy bear, Theodora, which she has had since she was six years old. I had brought the bear as a reminder of home, but, after a polite thank you, she soon fretted it would get soiled by the goop they slop onto a pregnant chick’s belly every five minutes to check the baby’s heart beat, the amount of amniotic fluid, or the hipness of the outfit Maddie was wearing just then. On the way out the bag – which happened to be a large travel bag we purchased in Australia during our honeymoon – weighed heavy on my shoulder, so, as I neared a Quiznos where I would get a sammich, I decided to use the handles of this hulking travel bag like a backpack. It worked okay as a make-shift, albeit heavy backpack, and, after a few steps, I forgot all about it. Upon arriving in the tiny Quiznos I ordered my sammich then went to fill up my soda. As I pressed the lever for Diet Coke a girl tried to pass me in the close quarters, and, upon noticing her, I spun quickly trying to get out of her way. Sadly, I only managed to smack her in the face repeatedly with my bag. I eventually turned the other way and said “Sorry! Excuse me!” The girl, however, only glared at me before stalking out of the store. I almost yelled after her how rude she was, but then I realized I was the a-hole in the tiny sub-shop wearing a gargantuan bag on my shoulder like it was a backpack – which it was not – who didn’t even have the courtesy to take it off indoors, so I said nothing.

Soon I was on the street and eventually made it home to my place. It was tiring, but it was good to get some exercise. Once in our place it was a weird sensation to go inside and not have a dog immediately attack me for a treat or a wife on the couch watching the Gilmore Girls or some other show I am not exactly besotted with. I was transported back to my bachelor days, and at first it was pretty cool. After a few minutes alone, however, I was wishing that Rigby was begging for a bite of my Quiznos sub and that Heather was explaining why Lorelai wasn’t talking to Rory this week.

Eventually, after a few hours at home (where I did enjoy watching a Mark Wahlberg cop drama – something that would NOT have happened with the girls) I decided to walk – and not drive – back. I was on an exercise kick, and it had nothing to do with the whole box of wheat thins and cheese I ate while watching the beforementioned movie. After a quick call to H I threw some stuff she wanted into an actual backpack this time and headed out. It was much easier at night without the sun beating down on me, but also because it is downhill from our place to Santa Monica. Who knew? In a car you never notice. The other interesting tidbit I learned was that a thirtysomething year old man walking on the sidewalk with a backpack at night is creepy. A sixteen year old with a backpack at three p.m., not so much, but me…freaky. Women would hurry past me at the same rate as they would the shirtless homeless guy on the bike with the Moses-esque beard. I wanted to yell at them “Come on! It is just a backpack! I have on a collared shirt for chrissakes!” I let it go after realizing I wasn’t wearing any pants. Just kidding. I was wearing pants. Anyhoo, I eventually got back to the hospital and hung out with Woodsy and Heather. Now I am back in the daddy cove eating some of Tara’s chocolate chip pumpkin bread. Yes, Tara, I know it was for Heather, but DEAL WITH IT!