I took Henry to the big-city style magazines and smokes store today, so he could get his Pokémon fix. They have the Pokémon packs stuck to the window with numbers on them, so you have to stand outside the store for a little while, while Henry studies his choices and picks a number. Then you go in and say, Number 28, Please and the man behind the counter silently reaches back and hands you a Number 28 with the manner he must use on the people buying dirty magazines. We also bought a pack of Lifesavers, one of which disintegrated into powder in my mouth. The Lifesaver I ate was so strange that I actually took the pack back out of my purse and studied it carefully, to see if I’d bought some variation on the normal Lifesaver—Now More Crumbly! Now Older Than Ever Before! Short-Lasting! Worse!

I don’t know if you noticed this, darlings, but yesterday was my one hundredth post. David said we should celebrate with Champagne, but I said I still had a head cold and would rather not, and we paid bills and then watched reruns of The Office with little half-smiles on our faces. So celebrate however you would like.