I have lost my fuchsia bra. For a time I thought it was just masquerading as a pair of underpants, as the turquoise one was: or rather, tonight I washed the underpants instead of the bra; but I've been through the laundry basket and my chest of drawers and no. Not there. Granted, if one person living alone can lose two dozen single socks, I suppose she can lose a bra. But it's irksome nonetheless. Not as irksome as it might be: having shelled out for postage and price to get those things from China, I happened to compare them to the pink bra I bought at the dollar store several years back. Exactly the same.
One reason for wishing for a sig.oth is trying to apply Afterbite to those itchy mosquito bites in mid-back. Afterbite doesn't work as well as it did: I suspect the absence of 90% ammonia. Try ammonia instead and it works.
Three day weekend with rain forecast at least one of those days- tomorrow, the actual holiday. I have the three-vol compendium of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes and another book of Holmes pastiche. We shall see if I succeed, ever, in my much-dreamed-of pastime of 'sit on sofa and read.'
