I wrote about how Jane and I are working well together - it was composed in my head during a fit of intense productivity we shared. And then it trickled out a bit, I'm doing cleanup work on freelance pieces and Jane is plugging ahead on her own assignments. But I spent more time cleaning screens on the windows outside the house and dealing with overflowing toilets and a washing-machine-induced-flood today than I did developing new thoughts. And amidst it all? Books arrive in the mail, from a fat stack of things we purchased online - reading ourselves so we're better able to write. And I don't take time to sit and read these things yet because between the house and my inbox I'm always pantpantpant

There is something beautiful about being alive - even feeling tired and dirty as I do today, and wondering what the heck I'm supposed to do about a broken water pump in the basement. I feel a certain priviledge to have that as my problem. Working from home certainly inspires some balance. I can't decide which is better - stripping all stimulation in favor of monastic peace and clarity or girding myself with papers and wires to better feel the flow of the world as I've come to know it? Anyhow, the doorbell rang three times today - Jeff from Nonchalance was the second visitor, dropping off the eleven Oaklandish posters I'd ordered from him.