Addiction

I am so goddamn predictable! I am of course ADDICTED to In Treatment (every night, HBO) and last night, big dork that I am, sent an email to all my friends urging, nay bludgeoning, them to watch. In other addiction news, Liza, with whom I play Scrabble said to me "you never sleep; are you on crystal meth?" My reaction? "I wish." "I wish"? What the?

I've had cold, sauteed spinach, mui garlicky, and 'am from the Italian shop Guidi Carlucci and a tomato and a piece of brown bread and brie for lunch. It's such a Bente lunch. Except she'd choose Ryvita.

There are irises and freesias and ranunculouses (i know, i know... ranunculi sounds so pretensioso!) in my office and so it smells like a flower shop in spring time. It's a good thing, because I've been screwing my brain to the sticking point trying to come up with good old sports cliches for the School Fair newsletter. There aren't many things I know nothing about but sports is one of them. I've actually got a list of words I found online attached to my lamp and when I feel like it, I just throw one in the mix for good measure. I actually came up with the line "Be our MVP - volunteer!" Hideous, isn't it?

This weekend I submit myself to the Brian Cox-like grasps of Robert McKie and his Story seminar which last three days for twelve hours a day. I'll probably fade after six.

The nice Korean vet in the house behind us (whose dog, if you've been reading this blog for a while, has mysteriously vaporized) has taken up the sax and he serenades me in the afternoons. Mournful renditions of Amazing Grace mixed in with the gardener blowing next door, the car alarms on Wonderland, the hooting laughs of the chicken. The dogs both cock their heads quizzically to the right when he starts. I think it's rather lovely.