The weather this weekend keeps getting better and better (read warmer), with each passing day. It is almost as it the cabin does not want to see us go. When the weather here is so fine, it acts as a siren’s song, calling us closer and closer, only to end up crashing upon the beach and lay sprawled across the sand. Hey, there are worse things in life. With every remaining day here forecasted to be a beach day, we only have found a little bit of time so far dedicated to the cabin closing. It will get done, but not today. I won’t worry about that today. I’ll worry about that tomorrow or maybe the day after tomorrow. Yesterday, we lost Jimmy Buffet, the patron saint of beach life. A cautionary tale of too much fun in the sun. We’ll raise a glass for him tonight, as we waste away in Manhattan-ville.