The predictive corrector has prevented me from saying what I wanted to say in my title. I wanted to say home again home again jiggly jig - you see? - it corrected j-i-g-g-e-t-y to jiggly. How can one indulge in word play if this stuffy, literal monitor is going to correct my puns and portmanteaux? Most annoying.

That's not what I wanted to say. I wanted to talk about re-entry, however soon it comes after exit. I was away for two (horrendous) days and I'm having trouble picking up the reins, or pieces, or strings or whatever I've been using to conduct my life. (I don't think I conduct it; I think I sort of drag it along behind me, or else it drags me.) In the process I have disrupted other people. I didn't swim until 8:15 and two staff members waited for me to finish my half hour swim and exercises before they could clean the pool. I needed that swim.

And I washed my hair.

I couldn't even start menu planning, couldn't remember what was in the fridge or freezer or what I'm doing the rest of the week. Everything is pressing down on me again, some things more urgent than others, but I don't feel galvanized by the incentive, just kind of lethargic. I remember a lovely line by the actress Edith Evans (1888-1976) in the movie Tom Jones:

"Rouse yourself from this pastoral torpor."

(She also played Lady Bracknell in a production/movie of The Importance of Being Earnest before male actors usurped the role, unfairly.)

I have to do something about my torpor, but my torpor isn't pastoral, it's organic, and terrifying. Check in tomorrow and see if I'm still here.

Now here's a tough one.

My friends keep a guest log, a handsome journal with a special pen beside it for visitors to write their impressions and thanks. What can I say? This has been a difficult time, waiting and worrying. If you've read the last two days, you'll know why. And my absent hostess still hasn't had her surgery. It's been a limbo time, a twilight zone, and the weather hasn't helped: on and off rain, more on than off, inadequate sunshine and warmth, dreary, in fact, though one cannot overlook the beauty of the surroundings - lake and sky and trees. Mostly, I've admired it from indoors.

And today I must leave, still not knowing what happens next. Well, of course, we never know what's going to happen next but we make educated guesses and take calculated risks. Today, this week, it's very clear that we don't know nothin'.

I swam only twice and I was cold. I cooked for my host, who can't cook, is a picky eater at best and not too keen on food at all right now because he is so worried. He's not really here; he has spent his days on the phone, checking with the hospital and doctor, or phoning and e-mailing friends to report. I brought work with me, and finished it, not much because I was planning on vegging out in the sun. So I cooked, using mainly leftovers. I could take a little longer and clear out the fridge, but I have other commitments. You do know I'm the Leftover Queen. My first cookbook was about leftovers. I used to make house calls. Well, I guess that's what this visit was: a house call. I hope I helped.

I hope all goes well.