Well, my dead cat problem has been handily solved. Turkey vultures, a.k.a. the lazy woman’s lawncare specialists! I saw a bunch of them flapping around the other morning . . . and now no more cat. This circle of life shit is awesome. (This is why I am not cut out to own a house, I think. I like a well-ordered household interior – no laundry on the floor, sinks and tubs clean, dishes done, not too much dust, no crumbs in the couch, nothing alarming in the refrigerator – but the idea of having to take care of a yard and clean the gutters and paint things leaves me cold. The other word for this is laziness. I have made my peace with that.)
I am halfway through the Sellars version of Figaro. There’s a part in Act II where everyone’s gulping down massive quantities of scotch. I have no scotch in my house and no immediate prospect of any, since the stores are closed for this evening and this county is dry on Sundays; I was a little jealous. Also, I have noticed that all the DVDs from the university library have this weird sort of old BO smell when you open the case. I am not sure I want to know why.
Finally, I have a Les Paladins from the Theatre du Chatelet which has the most charming warning on the back of the DVD box: “Please be advised that this production contains nudity.”