I'm in no mood.

Here's what I should do before I go to bed:

1. find that one list I wrote to myself on Friday about all the things I need to do. The one that has things that aren't just right in my face--the slightly further reaching things. The ones that I'll wake up remembering, in the middle of the night.

2. do the dishes.

3. have a reckoning with myself about my life.

4. finish the never-ending responding. The responding!

5. pat my pockets for all the things I'm forgetting.

6. start my fitness plan.

7. write a poem.

8. strip the wallpaper in my bedroom.

9. read Proust, leftover Proust, from that one time I read about 50 pages for my book group. Also, and on this same topic, The Tale of Genji.

10. cry a little.

11. draft a position paper on a compensation issue for the faculty at my college.

12. try not to forget any of the times I said I would talk to, chat with, or meet with a student in the next couple of days.

13. I'm pretty sure there's something else I'm forgetting.

What I am going to do instead is read my French detective novel and maybe do a crossword puzzle. And probably cry a little.

Montana, mon amour.

We're heading on up north tomorrow because of the big fall break. Betty's on the mend, and college daughter and running son will be around because they're either working or doing other useful stuff in and about town. So the historian and I are loading up the Camry with ourselves and our gear, possibly reading material, possibly the laptop, and going up to Bozeman.

A couple of years ago we went up there for just a part of a day, from West Yellowstone where we were staying. We enjoyed it so much that we thought we'd spend some more time up there. The world in Montana is very beautiful. Even though it was kind of a drizzly day in Bozeman, it was still gorgeous, and the drives there and back (we went a different way each direction) were unbelievable. It was like living in a Western, but in a car. That sounds not as wonderful as it actually was.

I have a meaty list of stuff to complete before I go. Hope that works out for me. Sometimes you just have to leave, but I hope I can leave with clean clothes, a mostly clean house, clean counters, and a clean conscience. I hope.

For more of what I hope to accomplish on this trip, see my new post on twit.