Apologies for the slight gap in transmission: I had what my mother calls A Back and it hurt to sit. The mighty Balmoral arrived and pushing it up the stairs (it was light! Honestly.) I managed to pull something. (Well, that's one version. The other one says the toilet gods were not pleased with my mockery of them and have exacted their revenge. Take that, lowly human! I CERAMICALLY SMITE YOU.)
Be that as it may, all better now, though I must adjust my working posture somehow. (Apparently we should all be standing to work. [Resigned eyeroll.] I mean, what next? Working while on the eliptical trainer? Could you be into that?)
We had a house visit from the social worker - the detective has been replaced by a social worker clone, with exactly the same conscientious, caring attitude, even the same intonation, only male this time. Remarkable! It went well, I thought, the usual faceache-inducing smile-athon, but I am relieved it's over - I hope an interlude of summer calm with very little mowing and minimal tidying might now follow.
Someone (being the JB) accidentally beheaded the whole flower-head of this foxglove a few weeks ago and it grew two new ones. Isn't nature amazing? Not to stretch a metaphor, but I was sort of hoping this could apply to me too. Not so much that I'd grow two whole new heads, you see, (they would argue) but have a similarly invigorating new burst of life. In fact, if we could all have a little metaphorical new head-growing, that'd be great, Universe, thanks.
Happy Sunday, all. I hope you are well.