A root beer and chips at M.'s cafe.

Wrote four pages in cursive for my novel. It was as though I couldn't stop writing, as though the novel wanted to keep writing itself. But I think I'll encode the pages tomorrow rather than tonight.

The granddaughters are upstairs. Angelique and Cath are working on another portion of their thesis.

Funny, at M.'s cafe I suddenly had a vision. The cafe was filled with neighbors, and there were even more neighbors standing outside. Everyone was looking at the huge, flat-screen TV beside the door to the cafe kitchen. On the screen was a news coverage of a devastating storm. I saw, among other things, tornadoes.