Capped off a stressful and sad week with dinner last night at Via Tribunali. Companion and I cracked each other up, ran into a writer friend I adore, too, and I scarfed a calzone the size of a baby who'd eaten its twin.
Will be writing all day and again tomorrow, but between Xander's death, several deadlines and having all the windows in my unit replaced yesterday as part of a building-wide project that's been run as smoothly as the Warren Commission, I will induldge in two more hours of respite.
Love and Death, which I've seen scads of times and was lucky enough to first view at a Woody Allen film fest my folks took my brother and me to as kids, and I will be nestled in bed for the next two hours. And my unopened box of Dilletante truffles might get deflowered.
Too late. It's a grown-up now, but I was suitably gentle.
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