Sometimes when it's late it's easy to see what to do, but that gets lost by morning. Not the idea, but the certainty. Yesterday, while the sun was setting, I was listening to a song I couldn't understand, watching a bus having a hard time coming around the corner, and it felt like I knew how everything worked. By about three in the morning I'd gotten clumsy and decisive. Or so decisive it made me clumsy. There were banging noises and wet feet. And then I slept for one hundred years.

It's raining and the air smells like someone I used to know. The weekends are made entirely of Sundays now. I'm going to work on stretching Sundays out across the entire frame of the week. We don't need those other days. I feel calmer than I have in a while. I feel like mopping floors and reading in the rocking chair. I feel like settling in. I've got plans, plans, plans, I mean it.