SaturdayWell, here I am in Beverly Hills on a spectacularly beautiful day. Temp in the 70s. Light breeze. No humidity. Cloudless skies. I pulled a bit of the pleura on my right side, so I cannot swim for a few days. The pain of that was astounding, by the way. What must it be like to be shot? What must it be like to be stabbed?Plus, a few days before that, I burned my middle right finger removing some film from a microwaveable dish of pulled barbecued chicken. The steam burned right down to the bone and the pain has been punishing. My great doctor gave me a modern “creme” which is helping the wound heal but as it knits itself together, the flesh burns in discomfort. What must it be like to be burned at the stake? What must it be like to get burned in a house fire? Or by a phosphorous grenade? Burns are awesomely awful and mine is a trivial matter.Anyway, my wife and I went out to lunch at the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel. We sat outside and the air was perfect. Just bracing and awesome. Then a few errands, and then a nap.
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