I let out the cat at 4 a.m. and woke up about half an hour later to the wafting odeur of skunk. So, already, this is a great Monday because, miracle upon miracle, my cat bounced into the house unscathed, ready for a hug and smelling like fresh laundry.

I thought I'd be editing this morning, but I haven't gotten the files back from the author, so instead I'll do a big housecleaning: dusting, vacuuming, mopping, bathrooms; and maybe I'll wash some more woolens, maybe sort through shoes and decide what my feet won't allow me to wear again. Then, in the afternoon, I'll turn my attention to poetry: my Odyssey phone call with Teresa and prep for tonight's poetry-group meeting.

I spent so much time outside this weekend that I do owe the house a bit of attention. Fortunately I've had help. Last week Paul washed a batch of windows for me, and tonight he'll cook dinner while I'm in my meeting. I might even be able to talk him into vacuuming. 

What else is new? Presently I'm reading Penelope Fitzgerald's novel Innocence, but today I'll probably spend time with two new poetry collections by members of my poetry group: Linda Aldrich's Ballast and Gibson Fay-LeBlanc's Deke Dangle Dive. 

And, oh, yes: Coming back from the grocery store yesterday, I was cut off at an intersection by a young man driving a Toyota Corolla with a "Virginity Rocks" bumper sticker. There might be many angles to that story.