We are all at home. Angelique and J. arrived but decided to skip dinner after having a heavy lunch earlier today. Everyone else is now upstairs, and I am alone in the kitchen.

A glass of red wine mixed with soda. That means I can't do any more painting, writing, reading, or puzzle assembling tonight. I am not one of those writers who become productive when they are inebriated. On the contrary, I become drowsy. Very drowsy. I am always a big disappointment to people who wistfully tell me, "I'd love to see you when you're drunk." What they get to see is the Dormouse napping at the Mad Hatter's tea table.