Flowers

I came home.  I had been away for three nights, and four days.  I had a bath, but I am too tired to write about it, really.

I used up a Fox in the Flowers I picked up from Lush Kitchen a few months ago, which smelt of freshly cut meadows when I collected the parcel, but is diluted more than I would like in the water.  You bathe in flowers, which I like to press against my skin and nose, today with the particularly lovely addition of oakmoss, because I washed myself with a fresh bar of Devil’s Nightcap, which I bought on a trip to Lush Oxford Street a few weeks ago. I thought it would go well with my favourite ever bath bomb, the oh-so-mossy Guardian of the Forest.

The petals and flowers and pieces of oakmoss got stuck in the drain, poking out like some kind of joyful harvest festival, with a spooky, Hallowe’en overtone, the oakmoss’ fingers wrapping round my skin when I pulled it out.

Now I am in bed.  I think the pressure sore on my toe has an infection.  I need to shave my legs, but I’m so tired, I’d probably sever an artery.

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