The street construction has begun in earnest, and it's awful. Yesterday: hours upon hours spent jackhammering ledge, the tiny narrow street packed with men and giant equipment and massive iron structures and pipes and sluicing water. And this is supposed to go on for weeks. Kindly, the excavator operator told me exactly what part of my garden he was going to have to dig up to hook up our water lines . . . just an edge, fortunately, so this weekend I'll spend some time moving plants and trying not to cry. 

Anyway, enough of my woe. I did go out last night to write, so that was good. I got six poems accepted this week--six!--so that's something too. Readers seem to be responding to my new collection, which is gratifying. I planted six tomato plants before the rain started. 

But now I have to endure another day of jackhammering. It's hard to concentrate on my work in this environment, and today is the day I need to seriously suss out what I'll be doing for Wednesday's book launch, so I'm a little worried. But I suppose I'll figure out how to manage.