Sundry Sunday Thoughts

Semi-dry Vanity Fair: I was able to finish my athlete-as-murderer story, peeling back the pages. I also read this long piece on a new Broadway show, Rebecca, based on the book and the trials and tribulations that got downright bizarre with investors. Both were great reads, and then I retired the magazine to the recycle box.

Water in the garden: It only took two weeks and repeated phone calls, but the water has been turned on in my garden. Before it rained, I had to water the plants by carrying water in a bucket. Of course, it's about a 20-foot walk from the kitchen to the garden, but I was identifying with indigenous people who carry water a half-mile or whatever from the river.

I mentioned to a client who believes he will care for me when the apocalypse comes by housing me in a family farm in Kansas -- we're not quite sure how I get from NYC to Kansas -- my job is babysitting the children -- OK, I can handle that, but I told him don't assign me the job of carrying water-- it's too much. I'll sit by the fireplace minding the children, shelling peas and darning socks. Oh wait, I wouldn't be by a fire and shelling peas... I'll sit on the front porch shelling peas and sit by the fireplace darning socks.

How do you darn a sock? I remember my mother had this egg-shaped thing with a handle in her sewing box that was for darning socks, but I don't think even she did it back then.

My new best friend: Even though I'm leaving for a trip on Tuesday, I decided to order groceries rather than (as usual) coming home to an empty larder. The same guy, Sowe, came this week all friendly and saying now he knows exactly where to go and he knows where I want him to put the bags (right on the kitchen floor) and he waived the obligation of my signing for them.