The bathroom sink has returned to its previous level of functionality, and I miss Ross.

If Ross shaves his head and I grow my hair long so I can pull it back in a severe bun, I bet we could be these guys for Halloween next year. He’s always wanted Gandhi glasses, anyway.

This morning I mended a hole in a sock, making up with sheer quantity of stitches what my sewing lacked in skill. I deliberately put royal blue thread in a light gray sock, and the combination pleased me but caused Ross to refer to what I had made, when I showed it to him later, as “Frankensock.” Nevertheless, I was proud that I had not let a (rather large) hole in a sock prevent it from carrying out the rest of its useful existence.

My pride was lessened by the fact that it was a brand new sock, an expensive one at that, and the hole in it had been put there by my own self not five minutes after I opened the package. I do not blame me, however; I blame the tiny plastic T-shaped tags they put in new things, in order to fasten to them tiny paper tags that no one needs or wants, and that some people might feel the desire to tug out immediately, against all resistance.

Next time I’ll use a pair of scissors. I can’t afford to buy any more socks.

I think this picture of Ben makes him look like Byron in a tender mood, don’t you? He was here this weekend for a rather exciting* couple of days, and I am very fond of cutting people’s faces up into little bits. (Really; just ask Ross.)

Re: visitations in general—I have to confess it has been rather a steep learning curve moving to a city that everyone wants to visit. I think we’ve had ten sets of friends and family fly in to stay with us this year. BUT! It turns out that I must not be nearly as antisocial as I declare**, since I have loved seeing all of my dear, dear guests immensely, and naturally Ben was far from the exception. Therefore, here is his yummy, cut-up face, and my Romantic thought, to break the silence of the week.

*Well, there were a couple of exciting moments. But we did spend rather a lot of time walking around Hyde Park, which became quite suddenly terribly famous six days ago but continues to lack a certain density of development. I was worried that Ben was not getting to see as much of the city I keep raving about as he wanted. Still, the immediate neighborhood was in good form: chilly but crisply beautiful and absolutely papered in golden leaves. Ben—used to the buzz of the Village—claimed to have been enjoying the quiet because it helped him relax and think. I suppose it’s possible he might have been telling the truth.

**I spelled that “declaire” the first time. And then I wondered what exactly one would have to do to an eclair in order to turn it into a declaire, and I got lost in chocolatey dreams for a minute.

I’ve spent a total of six and a half hours over the past two days, sitting in three different venues, listening to really smart people talk to me and each other about literature, music, ancient languages, genetics and the brain, the entirety of the world’s life forms, computer vision, architecture, and urban planning.

I’m incredibly tired, and my head hurts as much as my feet, but man. I think the Chicago Humanities Festival is a force for good in the world.