March 6, 2015

B took back his old job as housekeeper, and I am reminded of the inexplicable calamities attend his presence. An extension cord simply stopped working. He turned off the furnace (I suppose accidentally, but who dusts the thermostat?) and when I arrived home the house was cold and I had a moment’s furnace-panic until I realized what had happened. Blessing the Powers when the dim roar issued again from the basement. Bitter cold last night, though some clemency toward dawn.

Alan improves and improves as Mozart. I feel stuck, though I suppose stuck in adequacy, or someone would say something.

I am a finalist in the Tennessee Williams playwriting contest in New Orleans.  I didn’t record what play it was.

Sleep, teach, rehearse. React to emails.