I finished the ninth season last night. Anthony Horowitz is a genius. My sister sent me two of his books several months ago, one of which ("Magpie Murders") finished its TV adaptation on PBS Masterpiece last night. The man is a prolific writer, and I've been so impressed with everything he's touched, that I'm aware of. Michael Kitchen plays Christopher Foyle, a local detective in a small English town beginning in the early years of World War II. Honeysuckle Weeks plays his driver, Sam(antha) Wainwright, nee Stewart. The series gave me a real sense of how ordinary people fared during the war years and immediately thereafter. Answer: not well. Food, petrol, and clothing were rationed. Many people had been bombed out of their houses, and new homes couldn't be built fast enough. Profiteering and the black market were rampant, causing civil and political unrest and a general mistrust of the police and the government.
I spent an hour or two yesterday, unsubscribing to various vendors or newsletters and deleting nearly 300 emails. It's amazing how something so small can boost my mood and lessen my general anxiety.
We've received our updated boosters. The bipolar bears were having some side effects over the weekend. As for myself, I was a bit more tired and a bit more crabby than usual. I spent a lot of yesterday napping.
I also watched a couple of middling movies over the weekend. "Just Like Heaven," with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo, two eminently likeable actors, was maybe 3.5 out of 5. "Win A Date with Tad Hamilton" had competent main actors, but three of the sidekicks (one hers, two Tad's) had potty mouths and a generally sleazy attitude. Blergh.
I just put half a dozen small potatoes into the oven to bake. We have just enough sour cream left to grace them nicely. And the dishwasher will be somewhere near the end of its cycle when the timer goes off, so we'll have clean dishes.
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