Connecticut traffic was terrible, so I didn't get home till almost 9 p.m. last night. But now here I sit, on a muggy, storm-ominous morning, as T moseys around the kitchen making his breakfast and the cat mildly yowls at the door.

Today will be laundry and housework and undoubtedly groceries, once I figure out how empty the place has gotten. Meanwhile, thunder lashes the distance, and the pollen headache I've had for six days settles into its accustomed corner of my skull, and the air drapes and sags like a moth-eaten boa.