I’m typing a few words before bed while Andy lies on my bed reading “Glamorama,” by Brett Easton Ellis. He’s never read an Ellis before, but already he’s burst out laughing a few times. He just started it. I have to get up at 5.35 am tomorrow for work. Grr. Other people will be sleeping. But I did have today off. Real cold today. That wind. Felt evil. It’s so hot in here that we’ll have to keep the window open. Steam hissing like a snake. The merlot has made me warm & fuzzy, and I better take advantage of that.