March 1, 2021

Rain. Sickened by the birds’ turning my car into their toilet, made a trip to the car wash (the kids there wondering who brings their cars to the car wash in driving rain), rearranged the drive so the car would be out from under the great mass of overhanging branches. 

Made an off-hand comment to Ann that she needs to open her studio again if only to make a hardly-can-stand-up codger dance for me. I’d forgotten whom I was talking to. She’s going ahead and doing it, having picked music (beautiful music) and negotiated for performance rights. The idea of me onstage at 70 in a ballet is absurd enough for me to go ahead with it.