... no, not *that* kind.
I'm off to Zürich in an hour – the Jung-Institut, seminars, and my first series of exams. The weather is very warm there at the moment – entirely unlike here; trying to pack a variety of things, of course.
Do you remember Sunday Bloody Sunday? Peter Finch and the incredible Glenda Jackson spend the first few minutes of the film getting ready to go away for the weekend (with the same younger guy, as it happens, though they don't know that yet). It's simple but absolutely hilarious, and impossible to forget – Finch, with the exquisite trio from Cosí fan tutte playing in the background, carefully and calmly puts things away, packs meticulously, makes sure the kitchen is clean, and walks to the door. But Glenda throws junk across the room, yanks clothes from a closet to toss them in a bag, walks through a kitchen that looks like it is at the end of a three-day party, tosses a cigarette butt toward the sink without looking to see where it lands, and strides out the door.
I, of course, do the Finch thing, though not as calmly.
... Is that the taxi for the airport?...
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