I've been feeling slightly under the weather--kind of lightheaded, vaguely achy--nothing important, but every twinge is ominous these days. Still, I went for a bike ride, and Paul and I cleaned up storm damage, and I did my desk work and my kitchen work, and I acted like it was a regular day, which it turned out to be.

P announced that today and tomorrow he'll be working the dayshift, so unexpectedly I have a pair of 9-to-4 house-to-myself sessions. I do have a lot of editing to wade through, and some workshop/consultant stuff to figure out, but I should be able to find reading time, and maybe writing time as well. I've almost finished Speak, Memory and plan to start Baron Wormser's new novel next. It's titled Songs from a Voice, and the protagonist is a Bob Dylan-ish character, and my friend Teresa says it's beautifully lyrical, and she's a person who can't stand Bob Dylan, so I'm looking forward to finding out what's what.

But I continue to feel oppressed and angry over what my teacher friends are enduring as states and school boards force them back into the classroom. Signs already point to disaster: this is so clearly a huge mistake. Why not begin the year remotely and reevaluate for the second semester? That seems so obvious to me, but instead teachers and children are being shoveled directly into the abyss.