Having survived the first cut for varsity soccer, Younger Son joyously leaped out of bed at 6 a.m., ate several slices of cold pizza, and chortled all the way up to Dover-Foxcroft, where he'll be playing in the preseason soccer tournament. Elder Son is still in bed, procrastinating slothfully before he stalks off to his last summertime pizza-cooking stint. [You no doubt are beginning to draw pizza conclusions here: yes, Younger Son is the garbage disposal for Elder Son's leftovers.] I plan to do absolutely no editing today . . . mostly because I'll be spending a good portion of it driving the chortler back and forth from the tournament but also because I just don't feel like it. What I do feel like doing is making a French raspberry tart and reading more Denise Levertov poems, and what I ought to do is vacuum and clean the bathroom. But maybe none of it will get done. Maybe I will drink more coffee and do crossword puzzles. This day is already shaping up to be a day of nothing in particular. Sorry you got the brunt of the Blog-Post-That-Need-Not-Exist, but maybe it will make you feel better about your own indecisive Saturday.