1) When I told a friend a day or two ago that my life at the moment was a like a carousel I couldn’t get off, he helpfully sent me this iconic scene from a movie I haven’t seen, Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train:
2) For one reason or another, I have barely had a free moment since I returned to Boston. I’ve either been writhing in pain (that was Wednesday), at the office, or dining out. Just call me Greta “Recluse About Town” Garbo.
2a) Seriously, tonight I was in my loungewear, munching away on the dinner the neighbors had made when I got a text about a dear friend’s birthday dinner - about which I had completely forgotten since Wednesday night. I had to get into street clothes and hail an Yber to the waterfront to be embarrassingly late. And you know how much I hate to be late . . .
3) Having seen this scene now, I would like to report that I will never, never see Strangers on a Train. I’m already never, never seeing Psycho because I enjoy showering too much. I don’t mind adding Strangers on a Train to the list.