Dealing with difficult landlady issues today, requiring some hours of figuring out. One of my least favourite but most necessary jobs.
A Zoom piano lesson - remarkably successful. The computer perched on a stool next to the piano - there's Peter's face taking it all in - and I play for him. I can even show him the music if there's an issue. And I much prefer playing my piano to his. Another win for Zoom.
Spent some time trying to clear the detritus from my desk and ending up, of course, reading old letters and diary entries. Sent a screenshot to my friend and writing student Curtis - my daytimer from February 1979, when I went to see him about a professional matter and noted it. Sent a diary excerpt to old friend David, with ensuing correspondence. Had a long Skype with Lynn in Provence. The French are much stricter than Canadians about isolating. She and Denis are worried about their far-flung family, including a daughter-in-law who has Covid and has been weeks recovering. But L and D themselves are well, and she is baking. Mmm.
Then a quick walk around the 'hood, aperitif with Monique and Kathy, and dinner - leftover steak and potatoes.
Otherwise, one of those days - maybe it was the cold, the hailstorm this afternoon - when I didn't want to do much, except eat chocolate and drink wine and troll online and marvel at this strange new world we all inhabit.
I have not mentioned the tragedy in Nova Scotia. What to say? Another angry white male lunatic causing unimaginable pain. Horrifying and incomprehensible.
And I have not mentioned that yesterday was my friend Wayson's 81st birthday. Would that he were here to celebrate it. Except that with his lungs, he probably would not have been.
The New Yorker says it all, as usual:
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