B E B E R E

Sunday night, 10:15 pm.

A half-glass of Australian chardonnay is on the desk, Don Giovanni is on the radio, the ceiling fan is causing a slight movement of air in my room. All's well in my world.

Little girl cat has become very affectionate; she's currently sitting at my left arm as I type. I stop what I'm writing periodically to caress her head and neck. It occurs to me that she feels like a silk tree blossom.

We were going to go see the movies based on Conrad novels at the HFA tonight, but since I'm currently battling a summer (insult to injury) cold and Hal's in the process of catching it, we decided to lay low. To be honest, I'm not too disappointed. We had one heck of a weekend, and I'm perfectly happy to relax and enjoy an hour or so of opera mixed in with urban music before going to bed.