Daily Blague

Although not a man of violence, I'm as mad as Sir Alfred de Carter (above) about municipal footdragging on the public lavatory front. Kathleen proposed having dinner at the Shake Shack, and that seemed like a great idea. No cooking! But I forgot the bathroom situation down there (there isn't one, and if you ask you'll be advised to "sneak" into the McDo across the street). If I'd remembered, I'd have had a martini instead of a mug of tea as we were sitting around before heading downtown. I was never in dire straits, I was never even all that uncomfortable, but the uncertainty was irritating. The last time it happened - the last time I was at the Shake Shack - the Barnes & Noble at Union Square saved the day, but the trick didn't work on Saturday night, because that branch closes at ten, not at eleven, as the one across the street from home does. We ended up at Starbucks. I felt like Crabby Appleton, but Kathleen (who is, I supposed, used to me) insisted that it had been a lovely evening, as, in fact, it was. Sitting beneath the strings of light that stretch from the Shake Shack to the nearby trees was delightful and relaxed in a way that did not say "New York." Thank you, Danny Meyer.

And thank you, Kathleen.

Read more about Rex Harrison's best movie at Good For You.