Today, the baby and I are in exile from our apartment. Last night, at around eight o'clock, I became uncomfortably aware of a horrendous chemical smell emanating from the apartment below us, which is under construction. Peeking out the door, I saw that the stairs and the hall were covered in a fine white dust. Further investigation revealed that a corner of our bedroom was covered in the same dust, and, presently, I realized that the inside of my mouth felt coated with something and my head was beginning to hurt. Thrown into a sudden panic, I hurriedly packed my monogrammed Vera Bradley overnighter for which I would tease myself mercilessly were I not me, and fled with it, the baby, and an air mattress to my friend M's apartment. We arrived just in time to make M cook me dinner, watch "The Daily Show," and then uncompanionably fall asleep in the middle of "The Colbert Report."
M left for work early this morning, and we have been alone in the apartment all day, wreaking havoc on her DVD collection (the baby) and eating everything in her refrigerator (me). It is dismal outside, gray and chilly, and I am half-grateful to the Terrifying Toxic Dust Invasion for giving us something to do other than stay in our house and sulk all day (namely, stay in M's house and sulk all day). It's sort of like I'm on vacation, and I am feeling strangely cheery about the whole thing - toxic dust, air mattress, Vera Bradley overnighter, etc. I am even, in celebration, allowing the baby to eat Post-It notes, though I probably oughtn't, seeing as they belong to M.