Hot Potato

I can now reliably say that recess at Washington Elementary is right around 9 a.m. The other day I was awoken at that ungodly hour after a night of festivities that left me hobbled and head-sick to the charming screams of urchins and the rhythmic metal on metal ping of a tetherball chain hitting a poll as some socially awkward 9-year-old played by himself, trying not to get his lunch money stolen.

Moving into my apartment in July left me unprepared for the consequences of living next to a school - for a blissful two months there was not a hint of a child in my neighborhood save the occasional family biking past my house - but now I have a five-day-a-week reminder of where I live.

If my aversion to procreation in the near future ever wavered the new school year has made me resolute.