Rain and rain and more rain, then going to sleep and waking up to rain that keeps on raining. I think southern Maine had 45 minutes of sunshine in June, and July is heading down the same wet road.

On the bright side, however, it is a fine promoter of laziness, exactly when laziness fits the bill. Tom's employer gave him extra paid time off over this holiday, and I am still recovering from the Frost Place, so we have been in a state of mind for idleness. As the rain pattered down, we spent much of yesterday under the couch blanket--reading, dozing, doing crossword puzzles, listening to baseball. The fridge is full of leftovers, so meals were undemanding, and the rain was a soundtrack to our inertia. And then, in the evening, we watched a dreadful Elvis musical. The day was 100 percent indolence, and after all that non-work I slept like a baby.

But I can only live the potato life for so long. I'm getting fidgety, so this morning: exercise regimen, and then I'll return to kitchen spring cleaning, or vacuum upstairs, or go for a fast walk in the rain . . . something to satisfy my urge to move.

I've got a notebook packed with Frost Place blurt-drafts that are another possible project for today: transcribe a few into my machine and begin to play around with them. New thoughts, empty time . . . something good could happen.

And in actual good news, after emergency second surgery, my sister's eye is finally showing signs of improvement. That's been a horrible lingering worry, overlapping with the last couple of days in New Hampshire and playing out gruesomely during these first days of return.

And so, on this unhurried Monday, the rain continues to rain, and the cat continues to cat, and the house is beginning to smell like a closed-up summer camp, and I am a green walnut rattling in an empty jar--contained, also awake.