Yesterday I went for a swim - and managed a little over a kilometre which I am pleased with. It may have looked like the great white whale lumbering up and down the pool but I can't see me. So there. And I swim to reduce the pain and mostly it does.
Then I had a small reward and met a friend for a cup of tea. She also invited a friend and a good time was had by all.
Home again, home again, jiggety jig. By which time the smaller portion was up and had (joy and bliss) done the grocery shopping. Not a task I enjoy.
For the rest of the day I read agreeable trash (Little Vampire Women) and thought about the things I should be doing. Liking wrestling with the weeds in the garden. Perhaps today. Or perhaps not. If I get down onto the ground I have HUGE difficulties getting up again at the moment and while I have crawled across the lawn to pull myself up on the front steps before it is not a good look. But a number of companies have been sending me gardening pornography in the form of bulb catalogues, and if I am to succumb (I will) I need to clear a space for things to go.
And this morning I was greeted when I opened the daggy old curtains in the lounge with a pair of King Parrots - mother and baby. Wonderful. We haven't seen the king parrots for a few weeks and it was lovely to see them back.
Over one kilometre? Hooley Dooley as my mum would say.... I think that gives you 100% clearance to ignore every single weed in your garden.
ReplyDeleteI don't have MS and can't swim that far and *I* ignore every single weed in my garden...
I'm very much with Kath. I consider weeds to be nature's fight back against too much civilization of gardens. The ivy and I have an agreement that if it comes across the bluestone boundary then it's for the chop and with all the rain we've had, it's ahead of me at the moment.
ReplyDelete'daggy old curtains.'
ReplyDeleteGolly, I do like that.
We've got a few of them, king parrots, I mean (although they tend to be in next-door's garden because of our cats). We have daggy old curtains too, but that's a whole other story.
ReplyDeleteThe Smaller Portion sounds like a good sort.
"Daggy"? :-)
ReplyDeleteAnd what is this "swimming" you speak of?! Am here in Minneapolis, where the temperature at the bus stop this morning was 8 degrees below zero Fahrenheit -- I think my eye balls may have begun to freeze for a bit there.
No doubt I'll forget all about that once it hits a hundred this August!
Pearl
I am a bit jealous of your temperatures Pearl. I hate, hate, hate the heat. But it will end. Or so I keep reminding myself.
ReplyDeleteA baby King Parrot - oh how gorgeous. Get pix please. (oh OK I suppose I could just search online images)
ReplyDeleteDear Pearl - dags is the name for the mess in the wool around a sheeps rear end. farmers go out with clippers and clean them up and that is called dagging. So 'daggy' means anything that's pretty crummy/crappy. daggy old trousers, a daggy old car.
a Dag is a person who is lovable but a bit of a dunce. Just recently I have forsaken a life trying to be cool and hip, and just embraced my own Inner Dag, and feel good.
isn't slang fabulous?