Tracey Roberts

            My cold continued into Sunday, though I felt considerably lighter in my throat when I got up because of the absence of the bubble of phlegm that had built a nest there for the last few days. It wouldn’t go down and it wouldn’t come up but this time when I got up it was gone. There was still plenty of mucous, but in my nasal passages. There was still some in my throat as well but just not an enormous glob laughing at me from a fat throne in my oesophagus like a gurgling Jabba the Hutt. Despite that part being clear my throat was more hoarse than any time so far during this cold and my singing was often limited to rough melodic talking.

            I finished compiling a file of all my Early Medieval Philosophy lecture notes and separate files for each of the philosophers. I started reading and editing my file on Augustine.

            I watched an episode of Mike Hammer that had a couple of interesting guest stars. The male bad guy was a young Mike Connors, who went on several years later to star in Mannix and died just last year. The femme fatale was Tracey Roberts, who was already 46, but still quite the vamp.  She never became a star but she went on to earn great respect behind the scenes as an acting teacher and a theatrical director.