Alone. The house is quiet; Vicky’s gone to start a volunteer job, and then will go on to the boyfriend’s house. I’m home with no car. Darn.
From my office window I can see the kids next-door, running in the yard in their swimsuits. I can’t see from here if their pool has been set up or if they’re playing in a sprinkler. I wish I had that energy.
Something is pollinating, or the mold count is up again. My head feels over-stuffed with cotton, like it wants to burst a seam. I’m waiting for the first allergy medicine to kick in before I take the second. I won’t if I don’t have to. It’s hard to be patient.
I should be writing but I can’t concentrate. I barely got my e-mail cleared. There are crits in my inbox that I could do but probably won’t. Not right now, at least. A nap might put me right, but I should be working.
Nap. Then writing.