But it’s called “backdating.” I think.

Two days ago, it was Sunday. All I remember is I taught yoga, it was super cold and that night we watched a movie called “The Station Agent” (because it’s Christmas and all we’ve been doing is watching movies) about a little person who forms an unlikely friendship with two people when he moves to a small New England-y town after his other unlikely friend dies and leaves him some kind of train station building where ends up living even though it’s supposed to a place to sell things like maps and sundries. And we made spaghetti and meat sauce which is always supposed to be “so much better the next day!” according to people who make pasta in batches but I never eat leftovers because I prefer food that’s not left over, but cooked right then and there. I went to bed with the Sunday crossword, which I got pretty far on. I changed my mind the next day about the spaghetti when I got hungry. It wasn’t bad.