You know, I really must get out of the habit of putting my laundry out to dry at 10 in the morning and then forgetting to bring it in until after dark. It really is a bad move. Becasue you know what happens… you stumble outside at half midnight, trying to see by the crappy yellow street lights that barely even illuminate the pavement, let alone my garden, and you try to gather up your clothing as best you can, but it's inevitable. You are just bound to drop a trail of knickers behind you, so that when the postman comes at 7.30am you have the double embarassment of being both bed-headedly unkempt and facing the sight of your best black briefs draped becommingly on a red hot poker. (That's a type of flower, by the way, not something left over from Richard III's bedroom closet.)
Other than that… I have to report progress in the spider-terror stakes. Being a certified arachnophobe with a history of arachnid-inspired hysteria, I was very proud today to deal with a sizable spider using the glass-and-card method. I am well impressed. No hysterics, no screaming, no climbing over the furniture in an effort to escape. Not even a raised heart rate. Bargain!!
Knickers!
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