I started Le Rouge et le Noir last night. I had started it before, some years ago, but it’s nothing like I remember. Here’s a book in which holding hands plays an even huger role than in Hardy. I am up to chapter twelve, and half the book so far has been about Julien holding hands in the dark with Madame de Rênal. I like it very much so far, though.

My upstairs neighbors are a real nuisance. They were yucking it up until two this morning. The thing is, they aren’t young people, as I have said. They are on the other side of middle age. Everything about them screams: trash! I hate to say it, but it’s true. I put in my earplugs. Three more months, I say to myself, just three more months.

This morning I hardly wanted to move. It’s funny, in the end I did. I should have more will power. It’s the thought of another day. I’ve had my shower, breakfast and a coffee now. I suppose I could crawl back into bed.


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