In preparation for today's forthcoming torrential rains, Tom brought home a portable sump pump, so now I am on basement drain patrol. The plumber (long, long ago, when he once visited our home and pretended he'd be back soon) mentioned that he thought our drainage system is clogged; but given that he hasn't reamed it out for us, let alone done anything else, I'm glad Tom's figured out a backup solution for potential flooding. I'm also hoping I won't be regaling you with stories of water, hoses, and mayhem tomorrow.

For the moment, however, things are peaceable around here. The laundry is churning, and the cat is sleeping, and the tea is hot. The furnace is working beautifully, and ice has stopped falling off the roof. The breakfast dishes are clean, and the dining room is tidy, and the woodbox is full, and the couch pillows are plump, and the floors are swept, and I am standing at my desk in front of my two windows looking out into the gray day. I have a chapter to finish editing this morning, and then I'm going to turn my thoughts to poems. And after a while, after the rains begin, I'll go downstairs and light a fire in the stove, and I'll read an Ishiguro novel and make poached pears and beef stew. I plan to find comfort and joy in this wet day.

And on that note, I turn to the subject of our so-called president, poster boy for Shame and Disgrace. As I prepare my thoughts for the residency I'll be co-teaching this spring, a class devoted to the creative lives of young immigrants, some of whom were born in the nations you libeled as shitholes, I think of their bright smiles, their laughter, their powerful words and open hearts, and I think of you, miserable and unloved, surround by sycophants and self-promoters who use and manipulate you because you are a narcissistic dolt who doesn't know what it feels like to actually have true friends or colleagues. That someone so ignorant should dare to deride the value of these brilliant, hopeful young people. . . . Well, all I can say is, whatever punishment may befall you, in this world or another, you richly deserve it.