It's damned hard to get yourself to do anything when you've just become a father. Everything else seems to be of cosmically lower priority than spending time with the small person you've just come to know.
Complicating matters is the fact that time disappears entirely just as your baby makes its first appearance in the world. Not only are you not working; you are not working and you don't notice it because everything from birth through present seems like one long day in your new life—a life in which all of the things that you used to value are now far less important.
Meanwhile, fall is clearly here in New York. On the day grandma's left us, it's windy, cold, and grey. If there is a smell that can be attributed to the decrease in distance between afternoons and darkness, that smell is everywhere tonight. It carries with it the promise of Thanksgiving and Christmas to come, but also portends the end of the college football season, which is now more than halfway gone once again.
Life moves so damned quickly one almost doesn't have time to catch one's breath.
I'm sure the kid will agree someday, when she's able. Should be in about five minutes, at which time you'll see me, wizened, wondering what the hell happened and how 1984 got to be 2064 while no one was looking.