The Rabbit Hole

My wife and I refer to my occasional retreats from social contact as “falling down the rabbit hole”. Don’t know why or where this saying comes from, but there you have it. So for those of you who have been wondering if there would ever be another post, my only excuse is, I fell down the rabbit hole.

As I was sweating some copper this early afternoon, trying to make progress on my upstairs neighbors bathroom remodel (yes, I occasionally have to earn a living), I got a call from the wife whom I haven’t seen in 15 days. She and her crew were a quarter mile away, passing over the GW Bridge and upper Manhattan on their way North. Today’s destination was another two and a half hours away in Connecticut. She’ll be back home in 48 hours or so. I waved out the window toward the Cross Bronx Expressway, caught the attention of a couple at the corner who looked at me warily, ducked back inside the demolished bathroom and took measure of what I was missing.

I’m crawling out of the rabbit hole. Come back and visit soon.