Yesterday, I threw together a rosemary olive bread. The final packet of instant yeast, the last of the bread flour, the remains of a jar of black olives, the fresh rosemary Michael brought home a few days ago… I chopped the olives and rosemary, threw them and the rest in a bowl with salt and water, covered it with plastic wrap, and it’s been sitting on the dining room table since, bulging nicely. At about 9:00 am I’ll put it in the oven.

That’s about as active as I got yesterday, which was mainly spent typing, critiquing, writing. By the end of the day I felt as if my backside had flattened completely. After five I rode my stationary bike for half an hour, then walked softly about on the roof, pausing to wave back at the woman down the street who opened her third floor window and waved at me. (“HI” was written on the glass in blue post-its.)

Today I’ll have to re-enter the world of working from home. I’m finding my feet there to the point where it’s going to be a re-adjustment when it’s time to literally go back to work.