Drip

‘You’re coming back to a drip,’ I told Don. Maybe he already thought of me that way, but in fact I was referring to a leaky pipe in the bathroom. The third leak in a couple of weeks. Is this house beginning to creak and age, perhaps? 

Now he’s wrestling with a washer in the cistern: oh, the fun never ends when you’re fiercely committed to DIY. 

I’ve got a sore shoulder: tendonitis, I’m told, possibly a frozen shoulder. Second one I’ve had in as many years. (Thank goodness God didn’t give us three shoulders! Good thing he never listened to me, all the times as a busy mum when I would mutter below my breath, ‘God should have given mothers a third arm.’ No. Then I’d have had a third shoulder ready to seize up...) Is this body beginning to creak and age, perhaps?

Never! Well, maybe. There is a season for every thing under heaven. And I guess it is autumn. (But what a glorious day it was today here! Thank you God!)