It is far less tempting to bike across town and lie on the beach when the mountains are misted over and everything outside is dripping. The cats are circling my ankles and I think I’ll stay inside. This is good, because I have a lot of hemming to do. I’m ripping (much better than cutting) into the printed yardage that I’ve been saving for years. It feels good. I’m turning it into many tea towels, and they all need to be ironed and stitched. It also seems like a good day to repot the dozens of little basil plants that I’m hoping will want to live in my apartment this summer for me to nibble from.