2. Some winters there are abandoned gloves all over the streets. This winter there are abandoned doggy bags ie bags of dog poo. Dog walkers don't usually fling their bags into the gutter, so I fancy this is infuriated green bin owners who find doggy bags in their bins and dump them out. Don't blame them, myself, even if I put them in my outdoor bin bag when it happens to me; but I do it wrathfully and profanely.
3. Sensible well-spoken civil handyman comes round today. Realized it's a relief to deal with what feels like one of my people ie someone with the same socialization as myself because so many people don't; and some people are simply mannerless jackasses. Handyman says my two little jobs should take less than a day. Finding him reasonable, I pointed out other chronic house-type fumans.
He frankly said the banister was beyond him, though he could see if the covering was still manufactured; the bunker would require a team to shore it up; but the second floor hallway could definitely be retiled, and he'll cut around each of those damnable square posts sunk into the subflooring. Having a respectable upper hallway will make me feel infinitely better. And if I want to spend as much on house repairs as I did on teeth repair last year I can have the study redone as well. Which requires layout on new bookshelves, because the current ones are sagging Ikea knock-offs. Yappari, Ikea is it.
4. First attempt at Mt. TBR is Tokyo Year Zero, and if there's a more irritating stylist than David Peace I hope never to meet him. But book goes fast enough if you ignore the narrator's many many italicised repetitions. Yes, you're hot and itchy but I shall ignore you saying that every other sentence, as I ignore your constant I curse him. I curse him. I curse hims. Seriously, why am I so stubborn about reading this? Why not do as I did with The Book of Life: trawl Goodreads for spoilers and save myself several days of pain? Mostly that there's nothing else I much want to read, I suppose.