Yo and how’s-the-family from the vast winter wasteland of north Texas, y’all. The temperature outside has plummeted (damn, I love that word) into the 30s, I’m achy, drippy and crabby, I have a low-grade fever, I’ve been peeing a little too frequently and — most of all — I THINK I’M FREEZING TO DEATH. My hands feel like ice and I want Sam to light the fireplace. I can’t think of anything else that would warm me up right now except pizza or a pot of homemade soup, but since it’s already after 9 p.m. and I don’t feel well enough to screw around in the kitchen, somebody please
order me a pizza. Thank you in advance for your overwhelming generosity.
I slept through a couple of fine movies today:
Jezebel (1938) starring Bette Davis, Henry Fonda and George Brent, and
The Male Animal (1942) starring Henry Fonda, Olivia de Havilland and Jack Carson. Both of these are favorites of mine, and it’s always a pleasure to listen to good dialogue when you’re unconscious. As a bonus, if you manage to pry open one eye once in a while you’ll even get to see Henry Fonda’s face.
I give up. I have to eat something now because I’m starving. Thank you for reading this.
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