Impromptu.

Yesterday, around noon, I was sitting in my car after a morning as tediously horrible as any I have ever had. This morning had involved a trip to the godforsaken St. Paul police impound lot, which is located in down the most depressing, trash-strewn road imaginable. You drive past junkyards and heaps of dirt, and at the end is a hallway made of chain-link fencing, and you must walk this hallway on the way to the door, just to underscore the fact that yes, your car was towed, and it is ALL YOUR FAULT, because you suck at adulthood. Also, you look fat in those jeans. Whore.
Maybe I’m reading a little more into that fence hallway than is there, but I don’t think so.

Anyhow, I was in my car afterward feeling Beaten Down By The Man, when my cell phone rang and it was Scott, asking if I wanted to go to Iowa for the weekend.
“Yes,” I said, “Yes I do.” And three hours later we were on the road.

We’re here now, at my in-laws’ house, where Simone has just had her very first encounter with a kiddie pool:
Splash

More later.