I probably check the weather in New Jersey more than I do for Berkeley out of deeply-ingrained habit (and because Berkeley weather changes little from day to day and season to season). Because bike riding became a more or less daily activity from the time Charlie was a preteen in New Jersey, getting the bikes out of the shed in the back of our former house under scorching suns, in hail, flurries and wind and rain -- and then Jim and Charlie riding them however arctic the elements -- was routine.
My phone number is still registered for weather alert updates from Charlie's Jersey school district. Tuesday at around 3am, the dreaded "delayed opening" phone call came.
I've tried to deregister my phone number to no avail. It's been over a year since we moved out to California from New Jersey; I should just block the weather alerts number, now that, with the odd rain day aside, Charlie rarely has reason to miss a ride, let alone school.
"Should." Something in me can't but be alert to our old Jersey life, and all the ingrained ways of being and doing we had. That's what all those years of the daily rounds in autismland do for you.