It came upon us fast. I laid down for the nap, slept well, then rose to haze. Doesn't even smell like good wood-smoke. Smells like a vast forest of artificial Christmas trees had caught fire.

It'll make for some Munch-hued sunsets, so there's that.

Ha ha boss we're going to die aren't we

I suppose it goes against his instincts to walk outside when the air smells as it does: fire! We have to get away! Okay, we'll go back to the flat, you can stay there nice and safe and cool and I'll walk. No no not like that! Today, like yesterday, was another spell alone at Fred Base One, and he was moaning when I got back and hour and a half later. I leave him an enormous thing upon which to chew; he ignores it. The minute I'm back, he springs up and grabs the thing and takes it to the rug to slobber-gnaw and leave splinters I step on a few hours later.

Up to this point, a fine day; in-laws over to offer a little assistance with their upcoming Rome trip. I might be the worst person to ask because I factor in delays, bad traffic, and jet lag. I remember the first day, and we were exhausted. That miserable oh god I have to be unconscious for a while I don't care if it's 2 PM I'm dead bone-deep need for sleep that comes after an international flight. I know it well. I can't think of anything worse than being in an incredible museum and seeing double because I'm ready to pass out from fatigue. Last time I was in England I was an hour and a half early for my train north after disembarking, and sat in Eatily drinking nine-dollar coffees, wanting to die.

UPDATE: smell is now horrific. It smells incredibly toxic outside. Good news: I can probably get away with a cigar on the balcony.

Daughter took a summer road trip to the Carolinas. One of them, both of them, I'm not clear. She sent back a picture from Cape Fear Boulevard, and later this, which she said looked interesting.

Here at the Bleat we've spent a lot of time going up and down Main Streets, learning how to read buildings. Do you have the reaction I had?

I found it via EXIF, then did a search on our favorite website, and sure enough. That's what it was. The Baile, y opened in 1940. The auditorium, as you see, was demolished, but the facade remains.

Uploaded by Granola:

Well, you know I have to.

I was watching Suspicion last night. Joan Fontaine is a sweet British girl who marries Cary Grant, but after she catches him in his 376th lie, she starts to think he is not what he seems. I swear there are hundreds of these movies. Is the man bad? Or just flawed in some way that can be redeemed by the end? Is he trying to kill her, or did he just throw at axe at her head by mistake? It's not Hitchcock's best, but I would give anything to have seen it at the Bailey.

This is the point where we agree that everyone is more prosperous now and we can all fly and food is better and cars are technological marvels and information is abundant and easily accessed and all that

But

We let this die. It was a choice. And we'd make it again, the same way, even if we knew.