Tales from the Weekend, Part the First

There was a baby in my apartment this weekend.

Leslie's old high school chum Liz lives up in Claremont, and came down to spend the night on Saturday. And she brought her five-month-old baby, Sam. It's weird enough that someone I sort of know who is younger than I am has a baby. That's just weird. To actually see said baby in the flesh is even weirder. But to have said baby be physically present in your swinging, mid-20s bachelor pad is like if a dinosaur emerged from your bathroom with a top hat and cane, and did a little soft-shoe. It is something simply so alien that the mind cannot process it.

When I was awakened on Saturday morning by the baby's cries of attention after a mere four hours of sleep, I was so unnerved by the sound that I may as well have been awoken by a poltergeist. I spent the next couple of hours in a delerium, as I fell back to sleep several times, only to once again be ripped from slumber by the horrible Baby Wailing. I mean, it's a cute baby. I'm sure I'd have a good time if I ever spent more than 30 seconds in its presence, but it was obvious that introducing a baby into my normal weekend routine was like throwing a monkeywrench into the proverbial works. I know I've been throwing a lot of metaphors at you, but shit, man, it was weird!

I guess what I'm saying is that I won't be having kids anytime soon.