Last night I felt exhausted but didn't doze off until around 1. Then I was up at 6 to feed the felines. Then went back to bed at 7. But I have no idea what I did for an hour. I didn't dawdle on the web, so that's not it. I didn't write, so that's out. Did I watch TV? Did I read? Very stange, nothing rings a bell.

I slipped back into the land of nod, woke a couple more times and finally, with great reservation, got up around noon. But felt groggy all afternoon.

There are still many problems with the bath that need my attention, but I decided to ignore them until another day. So in a nutshell, my day was unproductive.

I did the usual lunch thingy at the Japanese restaurant. Today, a group of women who'd obviously been playing tennis, had taken over several tables. They were in a boisterous mood, and their cackling filled the small space. I squeezed myself into the sushi bar and read articles from the May issue of "Wired."

I guess the seeming differences stem from a number of causes. When I first saw it, I didn't understand the pronunciation of the title character, so I kept waiting for him to appear. I had no idea who any of the performers were save for Ben Kingsly. Also, I had some of the characters confused: I thought that the boy (Hugh Grant) Maurice loved at school and the barrister (also Hugh Grant) were two different people.

It is a wonderfully romantic tale. And very much an account of "the love that dare not speak its name" as was make clear by the conviction of the Viscount.

In today's paper, there was an article that Amnesty International has released a report that points out that same-sex relations are illegal in 70 nations and 17 U. S. states. So the "love that dare not speak its name" is still that in all too many places.

PAX!