1) I slept on top of the bed - it was more comfortable not being under any bedding - and I slept five continuous hours. Later, you know how one lingers in bed, half asleep, half awake - I didn't actually rise up and try to shine until after 8:30. Fabulous.
2) I was just getting comfortable on my eponymous memorial banquette when I saw H come up the drive at a brisk clip, lower the flags from the flagpole, and then step to the front door so I could admit him. I admire his energy whereas I, like Lady June Carbery in White Mischief, "couldn't move a limb."
3) Puttering around in the celadon-and-white kitchen, H had made the best choice of the day wearing an orange T-shirt. Fabulous. And we talked and talked, and ended up having to summon M. Davide from the Potemkin cottage to help figure out how to work the coffee maker. And he was very good-humored about it.
4) M. Davide returned to his morning routine, and the other members of the house party joined us in the kitchen. Music seemed to be the theme of our talk, especially the decline and fall of Kathleen Battle, particular musical theatre and church worship experiences.
4a) And they introduced me to a Stephen Foster song I'd never heard of, "Hard Times Come Again No More." Foster's legacy seems suddenly to be limited to "My Old Kentucky Home," "Old Folks at Home (Way Down Upon the Swanee River)," and my beloved "Beautiful Dreamer." I was so grateful to hear this.
5) Surprised to find myself spending time on ye Fycebykke today (truly my mind feels blank, and my body listless) and joining a discussion about the legacy of Madonna. "Bordeline" will always represent for me the summer of 1984 and my first apartment away from home.
6) Right now I have no idea what I'm going to do next.