This afternoon I decided to skip this evening's engagement and relax at home, in a caftan found on last summer's splashy Provincetown/Vineyard weekend, and roast a chicken. A friend says: "You're like Auntie Mame, but without all the divorces and stock market crashes." I've ordered these chairs, Louis Philippe from the South of France, that will arrive in a month. Having slept in, I'm grateful for my dimly-lit, art-filled abode. Playing? Kay Kyser's "On a Slow Boat to China." Drinks at seven, dinner at eight.
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