The dead mouse
I found it. In a pair of shoes that aren't worn very often.
I was lucky that I found it by following the trail of flies back to it, as unpleasant as that was, instead of by putting my foot into the shoe. And it's a canvas and rubber shoe, so has been washed out with copious amounts of water and is baking in the sun. After it dries, I'll dump some baking soda in it and continue the airing.

Off to theatre last night -because of the heat and shade at my embarking BART station, I ended up on street level in SF at the other end of Powell Street station, and so ended up having dinner at John's Grill, as in _The Maltese Falcon_. Not bad for a tourist trap. And the menu has a large page of commentary, written by Fritz Leiber, about the book.

The play was _War Music_, another play about the Trojan War, basically written as a poem/translation for BBC Radio, by Christopher Logue. It's a great radio play, performed here by a baker's dozen of the ACT company with not a lot of staging. It was an OK staging, but it'd make a very good Drama on 3 production, too (it's probably been done).

Nap time now.