Paws are clasped waiting for the last act of Die Walküre. It's making me remember the 2005 Chicago Ring, which I lurched through inelegantly, exhausted and squirming, but overwhelmed in so many happy ways. I want to say I didn't deserve that experience, which sounds mealy-mouthed--I did--but it has reverberated since in ways I never expected. I was dang lucky.

Urban weirdness: dabbing Fixodent on a broken temporary crown in the back of a cab and trying to mush it in place as we swerve around corners. Put it all back together with Fixodent and duct tape.