So, it was one hundred degrees today. Whew! Felt like it, too, which I suppose it always does when it gets that hot. It doesn’t always feel like the temperature it is outside in LA. Sometimes it feels warmer than it really is, sometimes it doesn’t feel quite as warm. But when we hit the high nineties, it always feels like it should—freaking hot.
I did lots of writing. I did lots of Netflixing. Oh, and I got to watch most of the England vs Argentina game. I was rooting for England, so…cest la vie, as they say over there. Or do they? Don’t look that up. It’s not important.
In the evening, I got to finish Charade, the old Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn movie. I thought it was actually delightful. A wild mix of comedy and suspense, but it worked for the most part. It was a Criterion version of it, too, so the restoration was beautiful. Real Paris, too, for much of it.
The book is 92 pages today. It will be just over 100 tomorrow. Pretty wild.
Night night.