One Day More . . .

If your next thought after reading that title was "Another day, another destiny, this neverending road to Calvary," then pull up a chair, my fellow Les Mis nerd, and let us sing of the red and the black.

And for everyone else in the world who doesn't know every word of every song in a Broadway musical about the French Revolution, that title just refers to the fact that I am still in the hospital.

DAMMIT.

I was SO looking forward to getting the hell out of here this morning, but no.  The pediatrician wants to keep Charlie under the lights for the rest of the day and then check to make sure all is well in the morning before releasing him.  So here I am, hanging out for another wild day of nursing, changing diapers, and staring at the revolting sign on the wall that says, "A baby is stardust blown from a hand above."

No, really.  That's what it says. There are so many jokes to be made there, I can't even start.

The big news today, though, is that A. called around 10:30 this morning to let me know that he had purchased a window air conditioner for our bedroom.

WOAH.  HOLD THE PHONE.

He figures if we run it only at night and on the energy saver setting, we should have just enough electrical current to get our bedroom to a reasonable temperature.  Say, eighty degrees instead of ninety.  Apparently, even A. was unsettled by the thought of bringing home a brand-new baby to an un-cooled house on a day that's supposed to be anywhere between 95 and 100 degrees.

Though in reality, since said baby is currently luxuriating quite comfortably in an isolette set at 89 degrees, I suspect A. might have been worried about that baby's mother and her reaction to those temperatures.  That is, me.  As well he should be.

It doesn't matter why he bought it, though; the point is that we have it.  Now let's all just cross our fingers that we don't black out the entire village or something when we turn it on . . .