• Late, no traffic on Rindge Ave. I’m reading a biography of James Thurber, my mother’s favorite author. Now all is silent. [1 am]
• I was reading Thurber’s biography again, but had to stop for a while: his drinking, his impending blindness. [10 am]
• Dusk. I leave extra food for the cat and start the long drive back home. #

Apparently, Twitter isn’t entirely reliable about receiving and posting text messages via cell phone. From a couple of scrawled notes from my pocket, I have added now Twitter posts that didn’t get posted 11-15 through 11-17.