Sunday Evening, April 7

1) Doyle’s Road Race today, the first one in quite a few years on which I didn’t hold an open house. Just didn’t have it in me, but when I heard the motorcycle sirens go off, I ran out immediately to see the first runners pass by. As they often do, the Boston Gaelic Column - that’s the bagpipers associated with the police department - set up right across the street from Maison Robaire. They were wonderful, as always, honking away for about 20 minutes.

2) I had to run errands on ye Cyntre Strytte, including the hardware store for a large can of custom-tinted primer, exterior wood filler, and paintable caulk. The third floor has undertaken some serious labor on our exterior in preparation for their open house soon. I admire his energy, and freely acknowledge that I’d just hire a conrtractor.

3) This evening, prosecco in hand, I feel a bit like Lily Bart waiting in the drawing room for that lawyer to call.

BONUS: I don’t care what anyone says, “Beautiful Girls” from Follies is the greatest song Sondheim has ever written. Period.