Monday morning, and Tom is still asleep. Because he's being shifted from one house assignment to another, he's ended up with a couple of empty days, so he's taking them off, and I'm glad for him. We're heading to West Tremont next weekend for our autumn visit to the cottage, which means he'll have time off next week too, and that's a very good thing. He works so hard; too hard. Being an aging laborer is not an easy life.

But I'll be at work today. I'm already behind schedule on the editing project, thanks to being sick for three weeks. And I need to prep for next week's high school class and return to my Poetry Kitchen plans and keep grinding away at the Baron essay.

Still, I was able to sleep a bit late, and I can sit here quietly for a little longer than usual. I'll get out for my walk before the rains begin. Even though I have to work, I feel less rushed than I usually do on a Monday morning.

I did get another few pages done on the Baron essay yesterday, and I did attend to my poem draft. I weeded and deadheaded dahlias and spread new soil in the garden boxes. I fell asleep, hard, for two hours. I made baked penne with fresh sauce and leftover lamb. I made quick pickles. I listened to an hour of baseball and was delighted to learn that the Blue Jays' radio broadcast is sponsored by "Armstrong Bird Food." For some reason that struck me as hilarious.

And today the rains will come. And I might start a fire in the wood stove early, to celebrate. And I'l make fish chowder for dinner because chowder is a rainy-day comfort.

We are snug here. And I am still feeling kind of lost.