December 9th, 2019

hasui rain

Where have they gone to, say the bells of Torontoo

You think if maybe I had a one bedroom apartment, I might lose fewer things in it? The latest desaparacidos are the attachments to my new vacuum cleaner, which ought to be attached to the cannister (or inserted into the cavities designed to hold them) and of course aren't. Nor are they in the room where I last stashed the vacuum (study) or where I last used them (front bedroom). Gremlins, I tells you, it's gremlins what plague the weary-boned mentally fogged aged.

Otherwise it's a theoretically warmish 6°C and I don't have to work, but it's raining coldly and persistently, so once again my sheets haven't gone to the laundromat. Some day, maybe even before our next bout of snow. Succeeded only in depositing my last paycheque and vacuuming/ scrubbing the front hall and livingroom, which I suppose is accomplishment, however half-assed the results. Back still yells about housecleaning postures just as it always has. I'd be down-hearted if not for that article in the Guardian-was-it? by the woman who confesses that pilates changed her (crippled with back pain) life, *but only after three years of doing it*. So I mustn't expect results after a mere year of not nearly pilates level exercise. Drattit.