Suddenly, and without warning or provocation, the weather has decided that 26 degrees just wasn’t “in” this season, and high 60s was the new mid-40s. There must be a hell of a storm inbound for me to have the front door open to cool off the house in November. Unfortunately, it chose last night to start this little experiment in climatological cubism, the one night I had a party to go to that involved a wool suit and open flame (thankfully not combined). At least there was lots and lots of champagne, which softened the blow of my charades partners staring at each other blankly before passing out under the coffee table. Though admittedly in a show of dedication, they made it completely under the coffee table.
This week will be spent training the newb at work, and Saturday it’s off to Boston, camera at the ready.