Now she's playing her harp. There was a harp at my high school. It was kept in one of the small music rooms off to the side of the big music room. No one ever played it. I doubt anyone does now. I wonder if I could, if I showed up one day and said, "May I? I used to be a student here, I can show you where I used to sit in the Physics lab. Oh, look, I know that nun, she'll tell you who I am." Or I could get my hands on a uniform and try to slip in unnoticed. I can make myself look younger by thinking hard about unicorns and boys with rough voices. This is nonsense, I know. I don't want to play the harp so much, I'd just like the option. As for this song, if I didn't keep watching this show all the time, there'd be nothing to put this song in my head. I like having this song in my head.

The weekend was disappointing because we expected too much. Ferries won't run in a blizzard. Was it really a blizzard? I know everyone's saying so, but it doesn't seem severe enough. This morning I met Jackpot for a snow walk, and I stopped for a minute to look at some birds up in a tree. When I turned to tell him something I found him lying in a pile of snow, tucked in at a strange angle.
"What happened to you?"
"I flung myself into the snow!"

I feel sleepy and old and uncertain. I suspect that I have African sleeping sickness despite the fact that I couldn't possibly. I think I need to readjust my settings. So far I've listened to Judy Collins on the radio and smiled at a little boy wearing a tie and holding a three-pronged icicle, but it's going to take more than that, I'm afraid. Tomorrow is the book, Tuesday is the song, and Wednesday will be rain clouds and index cards.