I scheduled a Very Professional Business Lunch for this afternoon, which made me feel like I’d done enough work for the week. A job probably won’t come of it, but a job might come from something that might come of it. I dunno. The job search is boring and uninspiring. I have very little to say about it.

But, so.

I have a Very Professional Business Lunch this afternoon, and I kept meaning to try and be Very Professional last night and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Instead—

of course you know there is an “instead”—

but may I just add that I have IRONED A SHIRT for this lunch; you cannot say I am not trying a bit—

instead, somehow, with midnight coming on, I was logging on to everybody’s favourite French radio show, back on air from a way-too-long hiatus, and in a heartbeat it was all the hits from that one delicious summer. There was that day, the rooftops of Paris stretching out into the blue, and everything electric with the starting of a something.