It is a humid night in the Big City and there are little tiny flies cruising silently around the house. And an Idia moth on the kitchen wall by the coffeepot. I suspect this is the famous coffee moth, but I can't figure the tiny flies. There is nothing in the kitchen available that would attract them, no trash, no mold, just Pine-Sol and the smell of a clean army barracks.
I was in a place today with a psychiatric nurse and others and had to help restrain some lady who had gone seriously psychotic until the police got there. The psych nurse hid in the corner and I sat next to the lady wondering why everybody had their mouths hanging open. Whenever she twitched I shook my head No and told her I would break her arm. Actually she would have broken mine being in her early thirties and in her physical prime. Besides me being sixty-four and fat and having a bad leg. People who want to kill people are terribly strong! But the police came and marched her out and then we all worked on our adrenalin for a bit.
I thought it was very gracious of CBS-TV to air the season premiere of The Mentalist on the eve of my birthday. In addition, in case it bombs, I have an exciting volume on biological warfare and another concerning a murder at the G8 Conference in Scotland some time back. Possibly a new mystery will come out of the current G20 in Pittsburgh. I am eating Chinese for lunch tomorrow and probably McDonald-ese for supper later on, who knows.
All is quiet in the Big City. Ta!
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