The dogs have the zoomies. I said only one was allowed to hang out with me. Spotify playlist is trying to soothe me. Cars zoom by too loud, in a rush to get out of town or cutting through the neighborhood to avoid traffic.

The wind has picked up, hard. “It’s the cold front coming in from the north,” my husband says. Wind pushes and shoves it’s way through tree tops. Chimes clang helplessly from neighboring yards. A little insect finds my screen. Strands of fallen oak pollen, like tinsel, cling to my sweater sleeves.

The kitchen needs cleaning from dinner.

Jack Johnson sings how “it’s always better when we’re together,” but I disagree. Not tonight. Not right now.

It’s a little early, but once that kitchen is clean, I’m getting in my pjs. I have piles of new books and I’ll choose the newest one, A Book That Loves You. The alarm will take a ten day break.

I’m getting out of this cold wind. Backyard drafting isn’t working.

Like a colicky baby, writing is fussy today,