Nothing to report

After staying up too late last night, and waking up late today, I persuaded the family to all walk out up to the coffee shop on 80th. La Serpiente decided she wanted to unicycle and Destroyer took the scooter, and we ended up walking another five blocks north to a park, where they played for two hours, so they were properly worn out today.
It rained a bit: the promised thunderstorms never materialised. I lay around the house, dozing off while the kids read books. It felt like an idyllic pause for us, in the midst of everything.

Even Destroyer screaming and yelling at dinner wasn’t too bad. Perhaps our feelings were ameliorated by drinking very strong cider. Hard cider, as the Yanks call it, or fighting juice, as we’d know it in England. This particular stuff was marked "London Dry" as if the capital of the UK is a paradise of orchards, rather than gin swilling hordes of maniacs. But what’s in a label, eh?

So today: nothing much happened. That was nice.