It will be another hot day. Sheets on the line, ice tea brewing in the red pitcher, fans whirring, cat flopped in the shade.

This evening will feature part 1 of Paul's graduation from Bennington College: an hour or so of student and faculty speeches that we were supposed to listen to during a campus dinner party but now will be watching from the couch in our back room. So I will order take-out sushi and we will attempt to enjoy ourselves. One does not attend graduation for sake of the speeches, but for love of the graduate. And we do love him.

Last night, while I watched the Maine Literary Awards (I did not win, but writers I admire did, so yay) and put together a big salad and tuna melts, Tom and Paul sat outside talking in the green evening. Later I brought out our dinner plates and we had our very first al fresco dining experience since moving to this house. It was so pleasant to finally have a place for an outside meal. The new concrete fire pit works well as a low table; the grass (such as it is) was cool on the feet; the enormous maples were a noble canopy. The white flowers I'd planted along the fences glowed in the thickening dusk.

And I'm a bit calmer about my work load this morning. After talking with the managing editor at the academic press I copyedit for, I managed to sort out a reasonable time schedule for the various projects I'm juggling. Today I'll do a bit of that editing but will try to spend more time reading residency applications and proofreading a student publication. I do feel as if my hair's on fire, and I'd like to reduce it to a smolder.

I'm trying not to waste the world's time on stupid personal anxiety.

Because the world is so fragile.