I awoke, with relief, to sunlight. But in the last hour, clouds have moved in, sludgy grey clouds. I'll close the curtain to so don't have to look at the winter sky in April, winter on Easter Day. It's currently 50˚F and feels like 47˚F.
I didn't write yesterday. Yesterday was wasted nursing a headache that hasn't quite completely passed away. The last time I wrote was March 22nd, when I finished "The Aubergine Alphabet." This isn't acceptable. But tomorrow I have to be at my psychiatrist's at 2 p.m., and then we have to head back to Woodstock on Tuesday for the final dental appointment on Wednesday. I'll lose Thursday, too. So, I can hope, maybe, to be working again by Friday. It's hard to begin anything today, knowing I'll just be interrupted for four days. I work in blocks, not fits and starts. And the year's more than a quarter come and gone.
Easter should be green.