And the shadow I throw strobing against the wall

The day began with contractors, who arrived only a little later than their usual aaagh o'clock in order to attend to our heating system, which had nothing to do with the window having fallen out; they are slated to repeat the performance tomorrow. I spent the afternoon on the phone sorting out a draconian insurance hassle and the evening at my parents' house sorting through fragile possessions.

Thanks to the recent half-price Criterion sale, spatch and I exchanged DVDs of The Girl Can't Help It (1956) and Black Narcissus (1947) and he surprised me with the Kino Blu-Ray of Times Square (1980), which he had just seen on film and I had not. I have a new-to-me shirt which may summon dust bowls if worn incautiously.

I wish this entire week had not been such a locus of exhaustion.