Last night I had to spend an hour straightening out my credit card – someone had hacked it and was using it to buy strange things, so the bank blocked it (now I have to get a new one) and I am just wondering what possessed someone to spend 13 cents at a Trump hotel. The mind boggles. Thirteen cents? By credit card? No wonder the bank blocked it. And what, in a Trump hotel, would cost 13 cents? Not only that, it was done twice, so the fraud came to a grand total of 26 cents. There were a few other charges, all in all about a hundred dollars worth. I have to wait, list them, and send the list to the bank for a refund; very odd.  I called Amazon, thinking maybe the charges came from them, but it seems not. I did buy a couple books from them. So far I’ve loved West of Sunset, and I’m in the middle of reading a fun romp of a book called “To Say Nothing of the Dog” – I’m having so much fun reading it, and it’s not often I wish I’d written something, but I really do wish I’d written this – it’s perfection. I got on a reading kick when it was too hot to sleep. I love lying in bed, fan on, sheets crumpled in a pile at my feet, reading my kindle with the window open. Now it’s cooler, it stormed yesterday and today there were cool showers. The heatwave, the newscaster informed us, is officially over.

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