3/29/39
Precious:
Ok on the x-rays. I shall not be surprised if I get a letter Sunday. The budget sounds ok. Which reminds me, tomorrow is payday and I shall have a hell of a budget to make out. In view of the fact that the dog-house fund is so well along, I may change it a little. But that won’t be for a week or so anyhow, so it makes little difference just now.
The bookcase was delivered today, but I haven’t gone down to see it yet. I am going to finish it in a natural finish if it isn’t too dirty from handling. Don’t tell a soul, but I sort of bought the Live Alone and Like It for you, and then didn’t know whether or not to send it. I shall ship it to you sometime soon.
Darling, you’re a good influence on me. I’m gradually getting back to the state of civilization in which I lived when I first entered school. The gang at the tea-room in which I eat told me today that I was the only customer they had from the company who was openly friendly but didn’t try to flirt with them! I must have that “taken” look about me, hi.
I finished about six pages of columnar calculations last evening and then found a mistake on page one which carried through the entire business. But after repeating almost all six pages, I had the satisfaction of getting the right answer. I have about five times that much more to do before I am through with the first half of my problem, and about two more years of work after that.
I was all pepped up when I got home and found a letter here from John in addition to my baby’s. After reading it through a couple of times, and getting no sense from it, I looked at the top line and found it to be Lane Eldred! I was going to send it through to you and let you give it to him, but when I realized that he probably had my letter, and not knowing what JH may have said about us in it, I thought it better not to subject you to possible embarrassment. I am sending it back to JH and hope Lane does the same, if he got mine. Maybe JH didn’t write one to me! Perhaps he just thought he did.
Got my rejection slip from the POST today, over a week sooner than I used to out west. I shall send the story to the American Boy as a next resort. It must not have been very good for there were no penciled comments on the printed slip. I suppose it is unfortunate for the poor publishers that I don’t get discouraged, but I’m having a good time.
I played ping pong again this afternoon. Do you like the game or are you like me—never played it enough to find out? That may be a solution to some of our spare time after we have a home of our own. It is darned good exercise—especially for one’s eyes.
I’m reading the books Jack sent me in the morning and some more Wodehouse after I finish working in the evening. The total continuity isn’t so good, but it should prevent me getting a one track mind.
I can’t think of anything else that I should write to you just now. You should get this letter tomorrow, but you probably won’t. The airport is only three miles from here and if the service in town is any good, this letter should leave here on the midnight plane. Still your baby boy—Cy