Mondays are glum days. Yesterday the sun shone brightly, as we romped around a lovely Solano Ave that was decked out in festive attire. There were smells and sounds and sights and the greatest attraction of all, a BFA table near the end of the way. The sun had begun to set by the time we reached it, and we cheerfully greeted the volunteers who enumerated the day’s results to us.
This morning I awoke from a bad dream. The kind that is filled with strange insects, large ones, ones that end up in your food, your floor, your hair.
The nice thing about Mondays are that they are punctuated with emails from dear, dear, trainees who I miss greatly.