What, what, what is happening? Not, not, not too much. It’s a stutter-y thought day; I have to send in my estimated taxes, I have to get some work done, there is a very loud tree trimmer right outside my present lodgings. We turned on our air conditioner last night, because the night before, in a bid to avoid doing so I turned our bedroom fans up so loud they rattled my sleep, and it was still too hot. Last night, it was cool, and I dreamed about eating snacks in a movie theatre that was also, somehow, in an airport, which seems like my brain reaching desperately for all the most forbidden quarantine activities & luxuriating there.

I am still thinking now about how incredibly indoors airports are: airports, and malls, all these enclosed ecosystems where we stew together. The anonymity, the sodium, the bad light, the rushing rushing rushing for your gate, only to have to wait there for an hour.

Anyway, it is hot now. Today we’re having a cool snap where the high is only supposed to be about 86. The flowers in my garden are changing: the ranunculuses not long for this world, but the African daisies and desert bluebells bountiful, the poppies and calendula beginning to bud. And the primroses! They’re so pale, they don’t photograph especially well, but they more than anything give off the feeling of being in a lush, wild ramble of a place, overflowing with springtime air. I always worry the flowers will be upset by the neighbor’s loud construction sounds, that the rattling chainsaw will somehow affect their cellular structure, but of course it does not. The only cells tensing are mine.

I’m still eagerly waiting my second vaccine shot; now that I’ve had one, I want to get one every day. Yes, I know, it would not be good, obviously I don’t mean that literally. But there has been so little we’ve been able to do that is purely positive, I am hungry for that feeling. Watering the flowers. Baking a cake. Getting a vaccine. Bring it to me, and lay it in my hands, I beg of you.