let's give brooklyn a hand

so the kid woke up at 5:30 this morning. sometimes she does this. other times she sleeps till 6:30. the raw power of that single 60 minutes is astonishing to me. the hour between 5:30 and 6:30 has such magical attributes that if you sleep during it, you wake up refreshed. if you don't, you wake up feeling like someone has crapped in your mouth. but with the kid, there's not telling which one it'll be. it's anybody's guess! this is the sum total of excitement in my life.

actually, that's not entirely true. this morning, after she woke up at 5:30, which is when she woke up, which, you'll notice, is before 6 am because it was at 5:30 in the morning, i changed her and fed her. it was my turn to do the morning shift. and i did it without complaint. we hung out in the house for a while, for about an hour, before going outside. even though we hung out for an hour, it was still only 6:30 in the morning because she woke up at 5:30.

so here's the scene. i was walking down the street, pushing the stroller, at just before 7 am. i head toward my favorite coffee house. i walk past the middle school. i take in the scenery. i glance to my left and i notice a parked car to my left. i notice all its windows are open. i notice there are two people in the front seat. i notice that one person is a pasty male, 40ish. the other person, i notice, is a tramped up woman in her bra, 30ish.

i notice that she is giving him a vigorous handjob.

PRESTO! instant reward for being forced out of bed at 5:30 in the am! i walk by with a quickness, but i am pretty sure that the gentlemen sees me seeing him. the lady does not see me. but i see her elbow flapping like a spastic chicken wing as she works on him with some fervent-yet-impersonal devotion.

the funny thing? when i get to the coffee shop, it isn't open yet because it's still just shy of 7 in the morning and apparently only underslept parents and handjob hookers are out 'n' about. denied of life-giving caffeine i am forced to flip a u-turn with the stroller and walk past the parked car again. i suppose i could cross the street. a normal person would probably do this. but i was risen at 5:30 and i am not going to go out of my way so as not to embarrass Wankyjohn McPeckerpull.

so i amble on back towards my apartment. this time the lady appears to have finished her busywork. she's fixing her hair. again, she does not see me. but homeboy, reclining in his car seat on his pillsbury dough thighs, does. he and i make eye contact. he stares back at me with soul-dead eyes, totally unapologetic. he is in that transcendent state of post-tug bliss.

the sad thing? the only person i had to share this moment with is 13 months old. the whole thing was totally lost on her.