Our forecast today calls for "rain/snow/then heavy rain"--a prediction hinting darkly at glop, terrible driving, ugly walkways, and wet basements--but as of yet there is nothing: only the trembling air, only the sky sagging quietly through the bare trees.

This week will be crammed full of obligation: editing, two classes, one mentor session, two trips north for band stuff. So I suppose I'll spend today doing housework. It seems like the logical thing to do on a messy Sunday, though, for the moment, I'm not feeling too enthusiastic. Mostly I don't mind housework; I take great pleasure in clean counters, bright bathrooms, a stack of folded towels, a polished table. Eventually I'll stop imagining that a fairy-friend godmother will swoop through the storm to curl up next to me on the couch and regale me with dense and cozy conversation. I think that is not in the forecast.