High Maintenance

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.

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