2000-11-04 - 11:59 p.m.

Rainy-day pleasures: A Franco-Oxonian's take on Ian Bostridge. A ripe avocado with soy sauce and chopped garlic. Hard-boiled eggs with same. Cafes au lait and Russell Stover S'mores. Composing letters and reviews. Car Talk. Sherlockian humor, including Christopher Morley's prayer: "Grant me, O spirit of Reason, matter for Deduction, Intuition, and Analysis; plenty of three-pipe problems, that I may avoid the cowardice of seven percent cocaine, or at least substitute something a little special in white wines...Remember, O spirit, to Segregate the Queen. Viz., the fair sex is Watson's department. For me, the Mind is All. But one confession in remembrance; the pistol-shot initials on the sitting-room wall were not what Watson thought. In the name of the Gracious Lady my favorite letters were the last two. I was writing not VR but IA. The Baker Street Underground shook my aim..." The nosy, affectionate pussycat unable to resist dunking her head into any unattended glass of water--even with a full water bowl within range. Friends trusting me with their secrets and deviations. The new Borders in Brentwood. Dar Williams' "I Love, I Love (Travelling II)" Emailed notes from da Babe. Trashy pointless society glossies. Bach cantatas. Not having to set my alarm clock. Bisexuality resources. My long-sleeved Davis-Kidd t-shirt. The oversize silk jacket inherited from a Detroit chum. Basking in compliments. Free lunch at the AP Bureau (a liverwurst sub and fruit salad). Falling asleep in spite of the raucous party across the street. Filling the bathtub as high as I like. Hot water heater up to snuff. Tossing Republican direct mail into recycling. Knowing I'm wasting their pennies. Having cast my votes week before last, donated blood day before yesterday, buying a Graeme Base book this morning for a children's drive. Anticipating da Babe's return tomorrow night. Winding down with Craig Claiborne's food encyclopedia. The leisure to count my blessings.