Bizarrely High Temps and Pillow Talk

‘Nother fabulously sunny day with bizarrely high temps. Snow melts flooded my running trail.

In the afternoon, Flavia texted: Did I want to join her and BB for lunch?

So, we met at the Culinary. Good food (truffle fries!); great company—what’s not to love?



I’m still dragging ass. I raised my rates for one of my clients because while I like him, the stuff I write for him is so incredibly boring that I’d rather eat ramen. Alas! No such luck: He loves me so much, he went for the new rates. I suppose on the practical plane, that’s a good thing. Sigh…

June and Henry are presently marooned on a bed doing pillow talk and having sex. Shortly, Henry’s wife will walk in—a scene that’s already written!

I feel kind of sick, actually. My grief over Rutger seems to activated the autoimmune disease. My joints ache, and my thinking is muddled. Of course, being me, I'm trying to ignore it.