I sit and watch “The Martian Chronicles” on TV, which is Ray Bradbury’s most hated cinematic rendering of any of his works. The cats are lumped around me. Soon, this won’t be a quiet house any more – Peter and Buck come home today – in a few hours, as a matter of fact. I’m sick of being alone. I am glad I went to Los Angeles, and I am glad I’m home.
Time to get the dog outside and start the day.