Went to Tchekoff's "Three Sisters" at the Barnes Theatre. Well, I was bored frequently. Did I enjoy myself? No, not on the whole, taking everything into account. Was I uplifted as I had been by the even gloomier play "Rosmersholm"? No. It seemed to me that often the author was wilfully pessimistic. He is certainly very monotous, and all his plays that I have seen have the same tone. A decent Philistine man, seated just behind us, said at the end of the second act that he had been disappointed and bored. But he liked Act lll better, and Act lV better still. On the whole Tchekoff had succeeded with him.When I got home I found a great letter from H.G. about (1) "Raingo", (2) Dorothy, (3) my 'renewed' home, (4) my improved health. It was a fine letter, and cheered me up. An excellent antidote to Tchekoff.
I take a nap most afternoons. For years I resisted it, thinking that I would be wasting time. My wife still does resist it. Says she just can't get to sleep during the day, but I think she regards napping as a sort of moral failure. The turning point for me was when I found that I could no longer sleep through a night - I have to get up to relieve myself at least once. So the nap makes up for sleep lost at night, as well as refreshing me during the day. We usually go to bed at the same time and generally read. She rarely manages more than ten or fifteen minutes, whereas I, having napped, can easily read for an hour or more. What a pleasure that is - to read a good book, comfortably supported in bed, warm, in a solitary silent world. One of life's small and great pleasures.
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