Whited sepulchre
Today was one of those days when you actually keep forgetting which day of the week it is - something we both found ourselves doing on this Wednesday that we kept thinking of as Tuesday. Strange, the effects of stress... Does everyone find buying a new car stressful?
After our flirtation yesterday with one of these sites where, it seems, you can buy a car online with the touch of a button, Himself decided he couldn't cope with such a sudden death method and opted instead for contacting the dealers from whom we had our current ailing vehicle - ailing, I confess, partly because we'd been so fond of it we'd kept it longer than any other car we've owned. Several phone calls later from a saleswoman called Alison we have a second-hand car on order for us to go and see next week and life has become exciting again rather than dread-inducing.
This really seemed to inhibit any other activity other than a couple of phone calls from my sister (going off to Italy next week, so subject of my envy) and one to my bestie to arrange to join her when she next visits the supermarket so that I can get a lift home. My case, I should add, is still sitting in the hall and isn 't quite empty yet; I haven't even finished the washing from the holiday because it kept raining today. I'm blaming the muscle pains that still haunt me after a deep massage yesterday to fix a sore shoulder and back - a legacy of sitting in the plane the other day; I looked it up and found that this is a common result of some kinds of massage. I did, however, remember to have lunch (a morning roll with grilled pancetta and ketchup, sinful and delicious).
In the afternoon we walked to the post office in the Coop, killing two birds with one stone as I not only renewed my ferry pass card but also bought some vegetables to tide us through to the end of the week. We seemed to know every second person we saw; the resulting conversations kept us out for far longer than anticipated. Then we had the sad task of going to empty the condemned car where it sat in the car park behind the garage who are dealing with it for us. The contents of the various crannies in the car and of the boot filled four carrier bags and left us still carrying a pair of walking poles each - it's like losing a room in your house! We even sat inside it to wait out a passing deluge, and wondered at the unsullied interior. I decided to make it the subject of today's blip - shiny and perfect-looking, but holed, as it were, beneath the water-line.
Meanwhile the porcine Lord of Misrule continues to assume that he is somehow fit to hold high office, bolstered by the craven support of the nonentities of his parliamentary colleagues who owe him their current jobs, and the ludicrous need to own guns in the USA claims another classroom of innocent lives.
When will there be good news?
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