I'm supposed to drive to Vermont tomorrow, but suddenly that trip is on the rocks, what with the tropical storm hurtling up the East Coast. My friend Teresa, who lives in Florida, tells me it was the worst storm she's lived through there, mostly because it seemed to be endless. So I am already dreading the thought of driving in torrential rain over those Vermont mountains, which are so prone to washouts.

On the other hand, I am supposed to meet my friend Kerrin for lunch, and I am supposed to see my kid and his partner, so I am reluctant to pull the plug on this trip . . . On the third hand, I am an anxious driver with bad eyes . . . 

Ah, well. There are no weather updates yet, so all I can do is wait a bit longer to make a decision. But blah.

In the meantime, today will be a workman day at the Alcott House: the chimney sweep is coming to repair the chimney, fix the flashing, clean and patch the roof rubber, plus sweep the flues--an all-day job that's going to cost a lot. We've already put money into tree work this summer, and now the roof work will be another big lump sum--but climate change isn't giving us much choice. The bad storms are not going to let up.

So I will peg away at my editing project, and fret about my trip, and maybe or maybe not go out to write tonight, and take my car to the garage to get inspected, and read Babel Tower, and take a walk to clear my head. I will pick blueberries and make a blueberry buckle from them, and I will eat leftover chanterelle risotto, and I will try to make all of the right decisions, and I will probably not.