And last night has been the first cold night in months. Not yet so cold as to blight the tomatoes, but definitely a two-blanketer. Have read, at Gloria's instance, a medium-depressing, but (bad science aside) quite correct little dystopia called 'A Short History of Progress,' by Ronald Wright. The bad science is our author's personal conviction, necessary for his thesis I fear, that Homines Neanderthalensis Sapiensque were same-species hominids; which leads him even to assert, contrary to what he must know, that the DNA evidence is inconclusive. 'Tain't. I have acquired, while walking with Friday yesterday, as the jetsam of a near-by yard-sale thrown onto the parking-strip, a tattered copy of Lin Yutang's 'From Pagan to Christian.' It's even more depressing than the short history. Likely, this afternoon to play the piano with Kristen. We did the fifth Brandenburg last time; this time I'd like to try the fourth and (already a favourite) the sixth. Vedremo. But back to Mr. Wright, and what I think he, of all people, is afraid to admit the truth and consequences of: What our author, curiously, is afraid to say is, a difference in intelligence is a difference in species.