I am awake in the middle of the night, fretting about the plot of Plotting for Grown-ups, puzzling about Sally Howe’s motivation and feelings, and tossing and turning because I can’t work out a fundamental problem that Jane and I have hit upon; and for once the Aging Hippie in Redwood City is not online and wanting to play Scrabble.
Where is she when I need her?
So I did a bit of surfing, checked out the transit of Venus, looked at some photos of Isaac on the net and wondered why he always chooses miserable ones of himself for his profile pics, when there are some smiley ones in existence, and in following links of pics of Isaac,
I ended up on my blog, reading posts from two years ago, when we were awaiting the arrival of Lux, and it brought tears to my eyes,
and I was also blogging about how sad I was about the sale of my parents’ house.
And now it is 3.50 a.m. and the birds have started singing, and I am going to try to sleep. Good night/good morning.
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