I slept late this morning, and then I was day-light-savingsed, and as a result it is apparently 7:30 a.m. and I am just pulling myself into consciousness. I had a fantastic early-morning dream about living in a commune and wearing a remarkable blue-flowered pantsuit and having a clingy annoying boyfriend and making eyes at a Rolling Stone across the room (though he did not look like any of the actual Stones). I have no idea who the bad boyfriend was, but that pantsuit! My god.

I find this dream hilarious as it has nothing nostalgic about it at all. I am too young to have experienced communes and pantsuits, except as a small-child hanger-on, and the Stones were always old guys. But my brain decided to take me on a historical tour, and I wish I could fully explain that remarkable outfit. Giant blue flowers on a blue background. The material was knitted Orlon or something of the sort, and it was quite close-fitting, though it didn't have a neckline plunge. I've never seen anything like it, and never will again.

I didn't end up planting arugula yesterday, so that's on the docket for today. I got busy sorting and organizing seeds packets, and then I had to go to the bookstore and the grocery store, and then I had to buy socks, and then I got sucked into the books I was reading and the day sailed past me. I'll get those seeds in today, and I need to prep for Monson too, but, ugh, the weather forecast.

I'm still reading Talty's Night of the Living Rez and will probably finish it soon. The stories are deeply sad, and though I am not Native, the book is so familiar in so many ways . . . it's set in central Maine, on Indian Island in Old Town, just north of Bangor, and the young men and their mothers are painfully real to me. I've also started reading George Saunders's A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, which collects several classic Russian short stories and uses them as the basis of a master class on writing. A poet friend of mine had recommended it, so I decided to. I don't read craft books very often, but I was intrigued by the idea of its structure.

So that's what I'm up to: dreaming, dithering, diving . . . and the sun is shining, and I get to drink two cups of coffee this morning, and this time next week I will be writing to you from the Windy City which is a lovely nickname even if it's not always true.