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I want to get a bottle of Mr Muscle window cleaner to give the inside of the windows a good going over but apart from that I’m down to needing to do no more than a quick whisk round the house on a daily basis.  Dolly and I are ready for inspection.

Well, I am, and the house is.  Dolly has taken advantage of my preoccupation to grow some fearsome mats of hair in the final stages of her autumn moult.  So it’s out with the blunt-nosed scissors and snippety-snip-snip.  Long haired cats are particularly prone to this one and I want to fix it before a trip to the vet for shaving is needed.

“How’s she doing otherwise?” Graham asked.

“Well, she seems to be in fine spirits, bright eyes, fresh breath, good appetite, but I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to say she’s put on some weight.  Getting quite portly, she is.”

“That’s better than the alternative.  I’m looking forward to seeing her again.”

“I suspect she feels the same way.  She’ll never admit it, of course.”

“That’s our Dolly!”

We’re on the final countdown now, and if all goes to plan we have less than a fortnight to go.  It’s going to be good to have someone else in the house, banging about and making new noises.  Perhaps a little odd, too, and needing a little rebalancing from Dolly and me, but good even so.  Better than good, actually.

~~+~~

dim damp morning
mist on the hills
rain on the way

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I made good progress with the cleaning yesterday, much to Dolly’s disgust.  She regards the use of the vacuum cleaners as a personal affront to her right to peace and quiet.

I told her that I couldn’t be doing with her scowling and moaning and complaining;  the job has to be done, like it or not.  Secretly, though, I’m on her side. I’m not scowling, nor moaning, nor complaining, but I do feel some resentment that the papers and books on my desk have been disturbed, dusted, and put back in neat stacks in almost but not quite the same place and the same order.  How can you tell if a book should still be in the stack if there’s no dust on it to say how long it has been there?

How long is too long?

Today I must vacuum and then wash the hard floors.  Thankfully I have little or no affection for dust on the kitchen floor so, when it’s clean and showing some inclination towards the gleam of good housekeeping I shan’t feel resentment when I sit back and contemplate the results.  Just weary.

There’s nothing quite so wearisome as work done without enjoyment or enthusiasm.  I used to be able to smile through it like a Zen monk, consoled by the knowledge that application to daily tasks is in itself a virtuous form of Zen meditation.

I’m not sure I still think that way but it could be for all I care.  That’s doubtless why ancient Zen masters gather a crowd of young aspirants about them, to sweep the floors.

Hey ho.  Some time next week I shall give the dusters a last shake and shove them in the washer so they may be laundered, folded and stacked neatly against Graham’s return.  He’s not a young aspirant, but he does still have all the energy and application needed for cleaning and polishing.  My last task before he arrives will be to distribute a few bowls of fresh pot-pourri around the house, and give the carpets and curtains a light misting of Febreze. Then I shall sit back, positively refreshed, and wait on the verdict.

It’ll be fine.  Graham will say kind, reassuring and appreciative things and then, a few days later, hit the house like a domestic dervish, whirling and whizzing, and all will be restored.

Dolly will scowl and moan and complain about that, too, but as I tell her, into each life a little rain must fall.

Speaking of which I do believe from the look of the sky that it’s just about to rain.  That’ll be nice.

~~+~~

in the midst of cleaning
an old grey poet leans on his brush
silence falls

~~+~~

I’m making pitifully slow progress on my house-cleaning but it’s almost done and I hope to have it finished in time to start a daily quick whistle round on Monday.  There’s nothing truly to account for my state except to describe it as an attack of the lethargies.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is reluctant.  So reluctant it’s painful to contemplate.

I have come to enjoy sitting in my chair far too much.  And to keeping the house too quiet.  Dolly and I seem to snooze and idle our way through the days in a comfortable little reverie, deep in our own thoughts.  Except, on review, I don’t seem to be thinking about much of anything at all.

Ah well, idle hands, empty head.  Not the best of times for good journal.

~~+~~

under heavy skies
late season spiders
spin lazy webs

~~+~~

I’m taking the day off today.  Back tomorrow.

Unless there’s a major change in temperature I’ve hit the point where the heating has to be on every day.  Can’t be doing with cold, and I’ve put all the indoor clothing on that feels comfortable.  No point being silly about these things.

The strange thing is that I don’t feel the cold anywhere near so much when I’m out and about.  There’s a lesson to be learned there but I think I’ll leave it a couple of weeks before I start thinking seriously about it.

We’ll be resuming our weekly outings once Graham’s settled back at home.  Tenby is still top of our exploration list, and we’ve both of us had a long-time urge to go over to Newquay for lunch at the Hungry Trout.  This was one of our favourite places when we lived in Wales the first time. Then, the whole of the Pembrokeshire coast, resort by resort.

I’ve managed to lose a fair bit of weight this summer, by virtue of eating less.  In terms of general fitness, though, I feel myself to be close to an all-time low.  The limit of 75 yards walking is still with me most days, so any programme designed to get me going has to be executed gently and with constant encouragement.  Graham’s good at the latter, but sparing with the former.  Which is, I suppose, as it should be.

I don’t think I’m ready for an electric buggy quite yet, though the sight of folks whizzing about on little electric quad bikes does sometimes make me a little envious.  I was a little discouraged by the miserable visage of so many of the people I see on such things until I saw this video.  Now I’m considering starting a penny jar against the day when I feel the need for added mobility.

Ah well.  Cabbages and Kings.  I’d better go and get stuck into a bit more house-cleaning.  Don’t need a buggy for that.

~~+~~

in the sunshine
a single leaf falls–
plop!

~~+~~