Good morning, and welcome to Bossy’s Monday morning flu. Or maybe it isn’t the flu, maybe it’s exhaustion. But Bossy did spike a fever last night of 103. OK, it wasn’t 103, and it wasn’t a spike—it was 100. But the chills! Or maybe they weren’t chills, maybe it was a chilly house, but you get Bossy’s point: Monday.
So Bossy will give her
readers reader the abbreviated version of her two days in New York City with her husband and daughter for Columbia University’s Family Weekend.
First the family schlepped armfuls of stuff that Bossy’s son had requested from home; things that are not available in New York, such as Bossy’s son’s bass. And Mint Milanos and toothpaste.
Once reunited with Bossy’s son, the family scurried to a local diner:
And then the foursome climbed on the subway and rode for three million blocks:
They rode on the subway for three million blocks so they could scurry to a local Italian restaurant:
And then Bossy and her family rode the subway back to Columbia University, where they scurried to a Thai restaurant, before convening with a couple of guys at their local bar:
The next day, the family food food food, and then they went to a Columbia football game where they food food food.
Toward evening, Bossy and her family scurried to a Cuban restaurant. Three pounds of ropa vieja later, it was time for the goodbye.
And then Bossy married a pair of boots she met on the subway. The end.