It's cold and quiet this morning. I slept till 6:30, thank goodness, and now I am briefly idling with coffee and you before I push myself forward into packing chores. I still feel dumb as a stump: yesterday I drove past the grocery store without remembering that I needed to buy groceries; this morning I forgot to finish making the coffee. This cold has bitten a giant hole in my brain.  I've been sick for the better part of two weeks now, and I haven't taken a day off from work, including the weekend, and apparently my intelligence has reached the end of its rope.

I still have much packing to do--food hampers, clothes, books--plus dealing with laundry, houseplants, cat care, etc. So I won't linger with you long. My plan is to carry along manuscripts to read, plus John Donne, plus Zadie Smith, plus my own notebook. Maybe my brain will revive and I will actually get to all of this. I know T wants to hike, and I hope I'll want to as well, though for the moment I can't imagine dragging myself to the top of a mountain. 

Talk to you tomorrow--