I have been awake since 3, thanks to the restless cat, and I am wondering if I should begin a "writing in the middle of the night" project, given that I anticipate many more restless cat incidents. His itchiness isn't surprising; more surprising is that it's taken this long for it to kick in. I knew his transition from indoor-outdoor country cat to indoor city cat would be traumatic for all of us. Though I try to take him outside on his leash, he is so terrified of the city noises that all he wants to do is rush back inside again. So he's bored, and he's bossy, and that means I have to be awake when I don't want to be awake.

Today, at least, he'll have some distraction. James and his girlfriend will be with us again; my Vermont family will troop in; James's best friend from Harmony will appear; Ruckus will be coddled and petted and made much of; and the kids will all stay up late with him and take me off the hook (maybe).

What I need to do now is drink coffee and clean the house and then go shopping to fill the refrigerator for all of the hungry young people en route to the doll house. But I'm also realizing that I need to start imagining myself as a poet again. That's not too convenient today. I'll have to remember to resurrect the sensation at 3 a.m.