A mostly calm, pleasant day. I worked on my reading patience, puttered about the internet, cleaned up some pens that had been waiting for my attention since term time, and Margaret took a long afternoon walk around South Park, exultant in the capacity of her new knees to propel her long distances with relatively little discomfort. Thank heaven we got those sorted before the plague struck.
At the end of the day Margaret and I watched Too Late, an interesting if overly-arch film noir à la Tarantino. Overwritten (or underedited — the opposite of an Elmore Leonard script style) with a couple of defining directorial tricks, it nonetheless kept our interest, if only to try to figure out what was going on. It should be noted that the filmmaker seems to think women spend a lot of time without anything on below their waists; perhaps I just haven’t been to those parts of Southern California, but I had the general impression that trousers and skirts were expected even in Hollywood.
I don’t think we heard of any new cases of COVID-19 among people we know. My cousin and her spouse are recuperating well, though feeling exhausted by the slightest exertion. Immediate family are all, I think, pretty healthy.