Well, Rosie, I'm back. I've been house-sitting both for Patty and for Kristen, who flew down to Portland last night with Steve Savage, to drive back today his new BMW. Without Kristen, I pretty much worked my way through both books of das wohltemperierte Klavier, among improvisations (of my own--spontaneous three-part fugati) and sonatas of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, plus a couple of J.S. Bach's notion of English suites. A good pracice. It's beginning to feel a lot like Virgo, everywhere you go. Friday, alas, who has been staying here--not unlike the musical chairs played by households in August in the Riseholm of E.F. Benson's Lucia novels--was discovered and confronted by Walter the True Believer, and probably has been dealt by him the severest of banishments and sanctions. Damn, what a lot of grief the Pure and Upright give their fellow humans.