Murder In The Bath*

Waking up with a start from my afternoon sleep, I look at my watch. Six o’clock in the evening.  The whole day has vanished and there’s so much to do.

“You could make me a cup of coffee, if you wanted to be useful,” I say to the panther and he just stretches and climbs onto the windowsill.  Sprawling along it, he gazes out into the garden.  “Go out if you want,” I say, opening the window.  He doesn’t.  He sits behind the glass, watching the magpies hop around the garden.

Somehow, in the next hour or so, need to:

1.  Have bath and wash hair.

2.  Unload dishwasher.

3.  Unpack and repack suitcase.

4.  Pack medicine bag with enough pills for the next few days: carbamazepine, duloxetine, antihistamine, letrozole, anti-constipation pills…

5.  Clean lenses.  And Ears.  Haven’t cleaned newly-pierced ears enough today.

6.  Cook and eat supper.

7.  Achieve early night as have booked a train ticket for 10.46am tomorrow to see my Seb.  At least have done this one thing already, but can’t remember now why thought it would be a good plan to catch such an early train.  Presumably wanted to spend as-long-as-possible with my darling boy.

Argh.  No idea what the weather will be doing over the weekend.  Or what our plans are.  Think am going to start with a bath as, yet again, it has been several days since the last one.

The attached chimpanzee mural lives nearby.

Happy Friday everyone!
*2003.  By Michael Mallory.  An Amelia Watson mystery.


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