Nothing has happened yet today, and the prospects for liveliness look dim for the rest of the afternoon. In this part of Ohio, there is a thirty-seven-point-three percent chance of scattered amusement later this evening.

Tomorrow, I go back home to Manhattan, only to plunge headlong into an apartment search, an intense burst of activity to finish my outstanding work before I travel again in June and July, and life with a hyperactive Boston terrier.