I probably have spent one hour outside in the last week. I mean, outside, fresh air outside. In the car, in the grocery show, in TJ Max, in the post office: none of them count. People talk about cabin fever and it might hit me any time but so far, I’m good. Monday Land of Cogs did not happen because of snow. I hope Tuesday Land of Cogs gets cancelled, too.
“Hi, I’m Laura Linney and this is Masterpiece Classic.” I love to say that along with her. Whenever I am watching PBS on my iPad, I stare into the screen during the introduction and try to imitate the eyes and lips like Gillian Anderson, Keira Knightley, and Helen Mirren. I can see my reflection on the screen and I have no dramatic eyebrow movement like them, absolutely none. I try but I look a little more like Bea Arthur, without any eyebrow movement, other than a Groucho up-and-down forehead stretch.
I started Downton Abbey, Season 2. I have been avoiding it, because I knew it would be another addictive commitment; but, I succumbed because I am weak, weak, weak, a pleasure hound.
Tomorrow is supposed to be 40 to 50 degrees below zero. I may go out tomorrow, out of sheer perversity.
Liese Ricketts and her foolishness 