Bad Day at Black Rock

The title of this Spencer Tracy movie started going through my head on Friday when we learned that the roofers assigned to our house had gone to another job by mistake. That meant that the hotel room we had splurged on as a "safe house" where Truman could nap was sitting empty for an entire day. The roofing contractor arranged to have a larger crew come on Saturday, promising to have everything finished in a day (a doable feat, we learned from others who'd been through the process).

So when the roofers arrived at 7:30 on Saturday morning, Truman and I made our way up north to the hotel. I figured the packing was good practice for our early October trip to South Padre. Here's what we took for just four hours at the hotel: two diaper bags, the Boppy, a bouncy seat, the Baby Bjorn, a tote bag and the car seat.


Truman's hangout, a combo sleeping area and changing table. I'm sure this violated some health code.


As for Truman's nap, I finally managed to get 30 minutes of him sleeping in the sling before we had to check out of the hotel.


The roofers almost finished the job but have to come back for another couple of hours on Monday. Truman slept for a total of 70 minutes all day. And the piece of furniture we'd been eagerly expecting from Crate and Barrel arrived—damaged.

Bad Day at Black Rock. You can say that again.