I suppose I will take a break at 9 and listen to my poem on The Writer's Almanac. I am nervous about hearing my small words in that Big Voice, so it's possible I might not bring myself to turn on the radio.
In truth, what I really ought to be doing is copyediting an art-criticism tome. So clearly this will be a fractured day, shot through with "ought to" and "what if."
At least I have meatballs and a 4-o-clock haircut to anticipate. Also, now I can read something that I will actually enjoy reading. I am thinking about Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd.
P.S. Notice that I am not saying anything about Salinger. I might have read Catcher in the Rye once. Apparently I am one of the few literary people of my age who seems to have been entirely uninfluenced by that novel. I can barely remember it.
P.P.S. Winter's Tale readers, I love you. Read the January 25 comments, and you will see why I am so happy.