Rain falls quietly this winter in Oakland. If you're inside, you won't hear it. You step outside and the streets are wet. At work we look out over Rockridge through the huge front window. Nobody noticed the hushed downpour. We only knew it had rained when we stepped out onto the damply coruscating back patio.

My weekends pass fast. It starts getting dark around 4:30, so the day barely has time to start before it's over. Especially when you get up at 10:57. I eat some lunch, do some puttering, accomplish an errand, maybe laundry, and before I know it, it's night. I meant to call friends and make plans, but it's cold and barely raining, and going out sounds chilly and full of parking.