Once again, I was up late last night — being, once again, very productive. Tossing piles of magazines isn’t ideal work for one in the morning, but better late than you-kn0w-when. I crawled into bed with Lizzie Eustace, shortly after two, and read a few chapters with great interest, almost as if I were discovering Trollope for the first time. Worried that I might be waking myself up, I closed the book and then my eyes.

When Kathleen got up this morning, therefore, I did not. So I didn’t notice her wandering around the bedroom, half-dressed, for nearly an hour, unable to decide on a blouse. I woke up only when she realized that what she needed was a day off. Indeed: she has worked for twenty-seven of the last thirty days. She could handle her one-o’clock conference call from home.

So I decided not to go to the movies. I’m not so keen to see a movie, while staying in the neighborhood, that I’m willing to sit through He’s Just Not That Into You. The stipulation about staying in the neighborhood was important: we have theatre tickets tonight — The 39 Steps, finally — and I have a long list of local errands to run.

The Week at Portico: No book this week, I’m afraid — but I have a very good excuse, really I do! I read a novel in manuscript last week, and on Monday I shared my thoughts with the writer. Believe me: writing book reports is easier. (Okay, okay; I don’t write book reports.)

Here are links to this week’s Book Review review, and to two new Lively Arts pages, Ruined (MTC) and Two Lovers (2929 Productions).

Drop me a line at rjk@dailyblague.com
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