My entire day has been an exercise in avoiding the dishes. In order to avoid them, I have eaten two bowls of tomato soup (one with cheddar cheese and one without), washed the windows, dug up a potted shrub to put at the bottom of the concrete stairwell that leads to our front door, watched an episode and a half of All Creatures Great and Small, Season Two, done a load of laundry, planted carrots, poppies, and lettuce, watered the peas, had a bath, cleaned my toe- and fingernails, ordered the playlist for the party, replied to a job posting, made the bed, lit candles, finished the sparrow duvet cover, scrubbed the stove, and stressed about the wedding. Yesterday, Tim and I invented an avocado and vanilla cheesecake to bake on Saturday, but there's also homemade bread, hummus, pistachio ice cream, lemon sorbet, and greek salad to prepare, and we haven't started anything. Tim is moving in to the suite tomorrow. We're cleaning house and cube-building and dough-mixing tomorrow. Friday there are flowers to buy and a pedicure appointment to keep in the morning, supper to make, and a wedding ceremony to get ready for by five o'clock. Then we're going swimming. Saturday is the big fete. We have 13 bottles of wine. The dishes are still waiting.