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I had dinner the other night with a woman who is roughly my age, she’s one month more pregnant than me, she lives in Brooklyn like me, and she does the same kind of job I do. She and her husband put their apartment on the market when they found out they were having a baby.

“You don’t like Brooklyn?,” I asked.

“We love Brooklyn, but when we have more kids…well…we all have to move eventually.”

Waaa? I don’t want to move. I spent 18 years in suburbia—that was plenty. I hope I’m not being completely naive thinking that Nate and I can do this. That we can eventually buy a place, and find a good public school, and afford to raise a kid, and still hang out with our friends, and go on vacations, and one day retire. Do I really need to move to New Jersey for that? Please God, I hope not. No one will visit us in Jersey!

Tonight: In-room dining. Who needs that kind of dinner company?
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