Domestic Bliss

Today I had a day off - which for me means time to catch up with myself, and now also time for a leisurely blip.  This afternoon I discovered an unexpected deposit in my bank account - more bliss.

Some years ago I had servants (I know, I know, questionable - it was the CULTURE) and developed a love of crisply ironed white cotton sheets.  Currently without servants, I have an ambivalent attitude to ironing.  Poppa Duck saved me from tackling the mound the other night.  Today it took no time at all.  The petal fell from Bunny's memorial tulips which I'd cut and brought in to save them from the gales last week.  It really is time to let them go.  I'd promised myself that I would scatter Bunny's ashes on the ground where I transfer the bulbs from the pots.  Her love for crisp cotton sheets rivalled mine.

I've been pondering this blip selection process since reading this post last night.  When my Dad was developing Alzheimers I took him on a drive to somewhere he used to love.  When I mentioned the names of the people and places he said in a sort of bleak anguish 'It doesn't mean anything'.  Now I'm thinking that meaning is a feeling, maybe a sensation.  And that's why I'm not posting any of the quirky (even clever, I think) shots I took earlier in the day.  In the scales of meaning this one had more weight.  I knew it was 'the one' the instant I saw it on the screen.  I felt so light-hearted and happy when I took it.