This wasn't my first effort this morning. I began by heaving a sigh of relief as I seemed to have come to terms with Squarespace, but then I had to look something up, and put my blog on Save and lost it. So here we go again, with caution.

I was saying how tired I am after working so hard yesterday. I said I'd burned my brains out, but then thought better of my hyperbole because I remember Bertrand Russell's comment when he finished his Principia Mathematica, with Alfred North Whitehead. (3 volumes published in 1907, 12 and 13 - I think that's right, but I won't leave this blog again until it's finished). The two authors actually thought there was more to do (there always is) but they had reached a stage of intellectual exhaustion and could not continue with a fourth volume. Russell, I remember reading, said that his brain was never the same again; he could feel it. What? What could he feel? Not flying as high? Not leaping?

Well, then, who am I to complain because I did a little juggling yesterday? I did nothing to the point of burning, or flying. Slogging is more like it.

I'll tell you how banal and domestic and inept my thoughts are about Mathematica. I can make change. I can't really handle my bank balance, though I have instructed other people how, in my book Everywoman's Money Book, written with Lynne Macfarlane. When I took a publicity tour with the book and did some public speaking, I warned people that I was part of a team, like one of my daughters when she was in Brownies.

I don't know what skills Brownies are encouraged to master now, in order to earn their badges, or how they go about it, but in Kate's day, they did their work in pairs. After Kate had been awarded her Housekeeping badge - or was it Homemaking? - I asked her one Sunday afternoon if she would be so kind as to bring me a cup of tea when I woke from my Sunday afternoon nap.

No, she said.

Why? I asked.

Because when she and her partner made tea and toast, she only made the toast.

See, I told my consumer audiences, I made the toast and my partner made the tea, so don't ask me. But I used to balance my bank book, and not on my head. Not any more. The nicest thing about not having any money, I mean money, is that you don't have to fuss much. My line is that my best method of saving money was not spending it. It's true, too.

Anyway, my brain is more or less intact this morning, a little cooler than yesterday, and almost ready to cope. It's time to swim now.

I'm still not sure what I'm doing with the new format Squarespace has dumped on me, but I have for the moment a blank sheet - no - screen - in front of me, ready for me to fill with deathless thoughts for the day, I woke this morning thinking gratefully "The day is mine!" So I can charge into my work and see how much I can get done.

The day is mine. I remember when I was expecting my first child, my minister's wife, the first real live writer I ever knew, gave me a blessing I've never forgotten. "Let me not lose its moments." Of course this wish applies to everything, not only pregnancy. Every day is precious , even the ones that don't feel like it, and we must not lose its moments. That's one of the reasons I enjoy the subway so much. Fascinating people show up every day and I learn so much from watching them, especially the young women. I like the way they twist their scarves, I love their eyebrows, I am in awe of their boots, and when I had my long hair, I watched carefully how they tied up, clipped or braided theirs, and tried to learn. It's important to learn something every day.

My father, like his father before him, was a very demanding man. At the dinner table every night, he wanted to know what we had learned, and just the good news, please. He was a doctor and he heard so many complaints during the day, listening to his patients, that he wanted something cheerful. So we (my brother and I) performed, though not as much as my father and his brother. They had a little routine and egged each other on, so my uncle said. They could turn disaster into a laugh riot. My husband could, too. I guess that's why he fitted right in. No complaints, just the good news, preferably funny.

That's why I was sent home from school at recess twice, once with chicken pox, once with mumps, because my father judged me well enough in the morning. To this day, when a doctor asks me how I'm feeling, I say "Fine!" before I tell him what's wrong with me and why I made the appointment to see him.

Well, have a good day. Just the good news, please.