No family ice skating this weekend: we're supposed to have rain and wind all day long. So my plan is to finish ordering my garden seeds and finish cleaning out the last couple of kitchen cupboards and then late in the day watch football with Paul. In the meantime Tom will be working in the cellar, "building the wall," as he tells me--that is, walling in the quarter-section of the basement that will be his shop.

Now it's 5:30 a.m., and I'm sitting in my usual couch corner, drinking coffee and listening to the comfortable slosh of the washing machine. The furnace is humming, the boys are sleeping, the cat is rampaging outside, the clock is ticking in the kitchen, and I am un-rushed and un-scheduled. When I finish writing to you, I'll turn my thoughts to a fresh cup of coffee and a new Accident Sonnet. Rainy Saturdays are sweet.

I finished the week by shipping one of my editing projects to the author, so I'm feeling somewhat less harried. Once Tuesday's talk is over, once Biden is safely inaugurated, maybe I can stop clenching my jaw.

This is the last weekend of Trump's presidency. Please, fates, give us some peace.