Could it stop raining ever? I seem to recall one day this week the sun came out oh so briefly- Tuesday?- and the city glowed. But ever since it's spit-spot rain or thud on the window AC rain or at any rate, rain, usually falling on the bicycle I leave locked outside. Must dig out the WD-40 or the lock won't lock anymore. At least the wind storm on Tuesday caused no outages here. Was, in fact, kind of a dud compared to the other storms this year. I could even bike in it.
While waiting for Books to arrive I thought I'd read Eco's Baudolino at last, that's been sitting on the shelf looking at me these many months. Only it isn't: it's the bio of Leonardo that's on the shelf. Baudolino has vanished, the way books always do in this house. So I read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd instead, because even though I know the schtick, I remember nothing else of it. Hadn't even retained that it's a Poirot.
Also vanished is my sense of taste; or at least, is much diminished. This is probably now a feature of the allergy season. At least it disinclines one to eat.