A Wednesday that feels like it should be Friday.

Bright sun.

The gladiolas are starting to dry out.

At least that is over with.

One by one they begin to cancel. I should just do all of this from home then.

Screw it. I’m bringing back the Oxford comma.

I tell her that I need until September to be in full-court shape. Note to self: get in full-court shape.

Sometimes you just need to know you’re not alone.

This lingering light is fooling me. I am staying up way past my bedtime.

The Finer Things Club.