Downday

The only person I spoke to today was the Waitrose delivery man. He rang the doorbell with two punnets of whatever the heck I thought I needed, mostly involving crumpets. No bag of course in the new bag free world. I made him walk up the interior stairs which is an assault course. Boxes of drinks. Crates of wine. Tiles. Screens. Pictures. A fly head. A chunk of mdf. Flip chart paper. It is still possible to get in and out the door but it helps if you’re an acrobat. He came up and stood at the top and I grabbed all the stuff and put it on the floor. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tip him but I didn’t. He probably hates me now.

It’s amazing how you can pay someone to do your shopping so easily these days. At least I’m stocked up now. Much more up to date with admin too, and I finally fixed the thing where WordPress wouldn’t let me post pictures. All I had to do was delete the app and reinstall it.

Just a few days ago we were on the top of Symonds Yat enjoying the colour of an early summer. I couldn’t have walked up there today. My body wanted none of it. Just a sleep. That’s all she wrote. I have spent most of the day in pleasant torpor. Interrupted really only for dinner and for various scattergun bursts of admin. Then I got in the bath and stayed there until it got cold. And now, somehow, is twenty past eleven and I’ve got missed calls all over my phone and I am not even sure I remember how talking works so I think I’ll probably just go back to sleep and find out tomorrow.

Ah the joy of a proper weekend. And Monday too! All this guiltless time stretched out before us and it isn’t cold. I might have to go be sociable again tomorrow but I’ve very much enjoyed a day of saying no to everything. And hopefully my invoices will turn around quickly and I’ll have a wee bit of cash. That’s the advantage of working lots. You get paid.