Buoyed by this gift from the universe, I finally called the handyman who advertised over at Fiesta Farms. There's good reason to drag feet when calling handymen- or plumbers or electricians or you name it- and it's called testosterone and occasionally cultural differences and quite often class differences as well. But this one sounds both civil and personable (I dislike men who bark, as so many of them do) and will drop by Thursday eve to assess my needs.
Then vacuumed the front hall and living room: alas that the old dirt devil really isn't up to the job, but the heavy old Hoover is; washed the weekend's dishes; and cooked up fish and celery and rice into a pilaff which will hold me for a few days. At some point will clean the kitchen floor, but this is enough virtue for one night.
