Yesterday was nearly perfect--mild and bright; the air dense with fragrance; everywhere, trees flowering and birds singing--and today will be like it. I've got my exercise class and a tiny bit of editing to finish this morning, and then the book goes back to the publisher, and I go outside--probably to mow and trim, but also to water plants, to plant a second crop of carrots, to hang towels on the line, to read a Penelope Fitzgerald novel in the hammock . . . 

Are you feeling jubilant about the CDC's announcement that fully vaxxed people don't need masks indoors or outdoors? I know I am. I cannot wait to say to a friend, "Hey, would you like to use my bathroom?" or "No worries! Just spend the night!" Or "I love your kitchen!" I am itching to go into other people's houses; and as of next Wednesday, when Paul crosses the finish line, I can open my doors and invite you into mine.

It's funny: I can be so anxious about things, and I certainly have been throughout this pandemic. I'm still not longing to go into large crowds, and I'm definitely nervous about driving long distances. But I am so eager for household company--in my house, in yours.