As expected, I’m getting less sleep now than I was before Adam was born. Once again I’ve descended into the realm of the obvious. More importantly, I’m back at work for the first time since Adam was born, and I couldn’t be more alert if someone gave me a swift kick in the head.

Pity the man that comes between me and the sweet nectar of life when I’m operating on less than a full night’s sleep. Yes, I’m back at work, and quickly falling back into the same old bad habits. I’d only been back for a couple of hours before I made my first emergency run to the vending machine this morning. (Dear Lord, please grant me the caffeine and carbs to make it through the day.) Being away from the office for three weeks tends to create a bit of a backlog of issues needing attention, so my path to the vending machine was akin to an obstacle course in basic training (author’s note: I have no actual military experience to tap for an accurate comparison).

I’m here to tell you that I made it there and back in one piece. I’ve consumed by bounty, but it seems it wasn’t enough. Caffeine and sugar, it seems, will only take you so far. Good sense was never one of my strong points, not when it comes to diet, sleep, or fashion anyway. Wait a minute! That probably puts me in the 99th percentile of American male adults! I feel better already.

It occurs to me that this is all rather predictable. What’s more common than a new parent being tired? It’s just slightly more interesting than my latest trip to the restroom (I’ll spare you that story). Look! Up on the desk! It’s a time sheet! It’s a case file! It’s a stack of work! NO, IT’S ALL OF THE ABOVE!

I guess I had better get back to work. Lunch is all but over.

The last three weeks have been just about the best. There have been a few hiccups, but spending this time with my wife, my daughter and my newborn son have been precious. Last night I was trying to get my dinner started, Cheryl was asleep, and Adam started to cry. Beth came up to me and said, “Dad, let me hold Adam while you get your dinner, I’ll make him feel better.” I was touched. “Beth, you are a really cool sister,” I said. She replied, “yeah, I know.” Who knew she was so modest?

One of the hiccups came this afternoon. One of the small businesses I frequent had a sign up in the lobby today, they will be closing up shop for the last time on November 13.

One of the things we lose by living in a large community is a close sense of community. Many of the businesses we frequent are big and impersonal. The prices are kept down by low wages and bulk purchasing, but the cost is personal relationships. In contrast, the same guy has cut my hair since we moved back from Florida’s vacation capital in early 1995. That’s not a really long time, but it’s long enough to take it for granted.

What exactly am I taking for granted?

I’m losing a connection to the community. I’m losing one of those places that make running errands a pleasant experience. I’m losing one of those places where we feel safe enough to peel off our impervious suburban cocoon of isolation. I’m losing one of those places where you linger, not because you have more business to tend to, but because you enjoy the company of the people there. How often do you feel that way walking out of Wal-Mart?

Then again, maybe I’m just down because I have to go back to work on Monday.