Five days later...
Sorry I haven't written. Friday night, my body shut down pretty early. Saturday, Patricia and I went to the Valley, there to do a good day's work, carrying over into Sunday. So. Much. Work. Family stories and legends. And detritus aplenty.
We returned to the city on Sunday afternoon. Greeted Newbie. And, once again, a very long nap, and then to bed early.
Monday was a return to work and a return to some normalcy. Last night, we both turned in early, after a trying day of ups and downs.
After work on Monday, though, to celebrate Patricia's new job, we went out to dinner in Fairview, at Freeman's Little New Yorker, an offshoot of the Quinpool Road restaurant that has been there since 1956. I had the lasagna. I liked what I ate Monday night, but today it has caused me some, uh, er, um, discomfort, which still hasn't gone away. I finished all but a bite or two of it this evening, and it was dull and lifeless, and just reinforced the, uh, er, um, discomfort. I don't plan to go back.
Also tonight, we got caught up on season two of Mr. Mercedes, which is about one tenth as interesting as season one. I haven't read the Stephen King novels the show is based on, so I don't know how closely the storyline hews to the books, but I do hope that the books are more entertaining. So far, in season two, we have an antagonist who's been in a coma and still manages to confound the hero of the show, Brenda Gleeson's Bill Hodges.
Patricia loved season one but was looking at her watch this evening. Which is funny, because she wasn't wearing a watch. Staring at her wrist was more fun than watching the show, I guess. I grant you, she has a very nice wrist. Firm, yet supple.
Tomorrow is Wednesday already. Who made up this weekday arrangement, anyway? I kinda like it.
Let's hope I see you tomorrow. I miss you when I don't write.
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