Meanwhile Mrs Hudson Knows Best *will* be front-lawned. Landladies do not open their tenant's letters from the Ministry; they do not.
Otherwise have been virtuous, but if there is health within me it won't be for long.
Trimmed the hedge today after two months, and will be achy and sore tomorrow, but it's in a good cause. The hedge was last done by my S-I-L's grandson some time in the summer. I wasn't around so SIL helped him do it, and as ever when she does that they cut through the extension cord. So they bought me a new one, and Labour Day-ish I went to get the trimmer from its box in the front room, and it wasn't there. Much back and forth with SIL, who maintained grandson hadn't used my trimmer he'd used theirs, except why then had they cut through *my* cord, etc etc. Most mysterious.
And then two weeks ago I'm cleaning the front room and move the box and... the trimmer is inside it. I *know* that box was empty. A trimmer-filled box weighs much more than an empty one, and blind though I am I couldn't not see a two foot toothed blade. I am being Gaslighted, is what I think. But no matter. Hedge is trimmed for the winter. Furnace is also cleaned and certified in good shape by efficient polite serviceman; and eavestroughs have been leaf-guarded, patched where they leak like Niagara, rehung to the proper slope, and the downspouts cut and capped so they don't empty directly into the sewers, by a pair of efficient Brazilians and their workman. So I am content on that score at least.