Yesterday was a day littered with disappointments, small and less small. Then I went to bed and dreamed that I was repeatedly trying to call 911 on Donald Trump, who was in some vague way holding many people hostage at a motel, but no dispatchers would answer the phone. That was a nightmare without much subtlety.

So this morning I am feeling unrested, unsettled, unsure. What I'd like to do is go outside into the cold morning and rake leaves, but I've got a borderline infected blister on my hand from the last time I raked, so that's probably not a good plan. Maybe a long walk by the water is in order. Or maybe quiet and Middlemarch and a cup of coffee will solve all.