I slept almost eight hours. I forgot that spring in New England lasts about that long these days; by the time I was walking to M.F. Dulock in order to pick up an order for myself and my parents, it was eighty degrees out and humid as soup. The thunderstorm held off until this evening when I was talking with
selkie. (Members of our household brought us both cookies! It was almost like sharing a meal!) Best prize for worst wearing of a mask seen so far in these pestilential days goes to the dude sitting on the curb on Highland smoking with his mask pulled up over his forehead, where I guess it was protecting his third eye. I really don't want the state reopening on Monday. Somerville has extended its citywide state of emergency provisionally until December.
I have been rewatching Black Narcissus (1947) because Ian McDowell was talking about it. I can't wear shorts like David Farrar can, but I do covet Mr. Dean's hat.

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I have been rewatching Black Narcissus (1947) because Ian McDowell was talking about it. I can't wear shorts like David Farrar can, but I do covet Mr. Dean's hat.