This past blogless week, I spent much of my time curled up in fetal position, hijacked and forlorn, with nothing to do that would excuse my not grading essays except bake, cook, read, think about mopping the kitchen floor, think about clearing off the dining room table clutter, think about changing all the calendars over to February now that it’s half over, consider organizing the pots-and-pans cabinets, think about maybe putting some salt and pepper into the empty salt and pepper shakers, and ponder running the neighbor’s mail that got delivered here by mistake over to their mailbox.

I did manage the baking and cooking and reading. All that other stuff required more energy than I’ve had for a long time. Maybe over spring break, if the stars are aligned just right.

One other thing I did manage whilst frantic and bereft: I watched movies in my kitchen. I watched The Big Chill, and Dave, and In & Out, and The Pirates of Penzance, and A Fish Called Wanda, and French Kiss, and De-Lovely, and suddenly it all came together and I realized what was going on with me.

I’m madly in love with Kevin Kline. Back off, ladies.