What more can I say about a perfect evening. There I was, Beethoven on the stereo, surrounded by bubbles and reading a lovely book. The smell of lavender hung heavy in the moist air of the bathroom as the lovely Fidelio encompassed me. I was no longer in a small town in Tennessee, but somewhere far more interesting and exotic, experiencing joy and despair, pain and ecstasy.
There is something wonderful in a book by a gifted author. And there is little else as wonderful as Beethoven's symphony number 9.
Now I'm off to slumber...perhaps to dream...carried on the wings of contentment.