In the San Juan Bay Marina with our pussy-face Jesus. Low-maintenance, no matter how filthy, cramped, and crappy the boat is, the cat reveals secrets of enlightenment. Really. This last week, driving around San Juan, in circles--my GPS insists on speaking Spanish--tangling with the friendly faces of a strange bureaucracy, I finally felt like I’m not wasting time. We are last-minute here, the world was moving on in its lurching way with or without us, but somehow things shuffle themselves into place, a few moments before we reach for them. Usually. Classes start on Monday and I probably won’t get paid for two months--there’s some reason for it. There are lots of little mysteries here, including what the maintenance guy at the marina just said to me. But I know I’ll unravel them, for these mundane secrets thrill me.