DON’T COUNT THE DAYS, MAKE THE DAYS COUNT
I dream weird dreams about babies sliding across floors and down highways, waking only when Anders comes in to tell me he’s leaving for hockey practice, and then the speedy sliding babies are gone. The kids are chattering in the kitchen, they are very loud, but I fall back asleep. No dreams this time, and when I awake again I feel drugged and logy. Stagger up and out of bed, to stand disoriented for a few moments. The sun is indecisive; he might show, he might not. Despite the lateness of the hour, the aquarium is still dark; the fish...