A dull moment takes on the dirty white color of a spider's web. The sun is a no-show and the forecast calls for rain. I postpone today's walk to Central Park--let Henry David Thoreau be the intrepid one. I think too much on dead flies and try to think instead of the escaping butterflies. The web is so sticky--unconditional love so sticky--I do the unThoreaulike thing (he was not Mr. Personality) of buying our desk clerk tea and I find myself looking forward to my dinner date with a lovely, lovely woman. That too seems very unThoreau....but very me.