This blog makes it sound like I’m cross all the time, which is my own fault. I’m not cross; I’m cross hardly any of the time. It’s just my life quite frequently requires negotiations so ridiculously intricate that I feel like I should volunteer to sort out Brexit next. And all the time, I have to be scrupulously polite, or everything goes wrong, and it’s my fault.
Anyway, right now I find myself away from home, and bathing in arnica, which is a lovely thing to bath in when you are tired and your body has its union on speed dial.
The flat I’m staying in – not my flat – has a bath with a side as high as the Eiffel Tower, and I’ve had to rig up a comedy scaffolding system involving a dining chair and a slightly-too-small while bath towel. White bath towel! Who in the ever thought they were a good idea? Also, I haven’t quite figured out the hot water here, and I like my baths so hot they take off the first layer of skin, but as it stands I’m glorying mostly in the Lukewarm.
I’m coping. I’m coping.