Of showers, singing and living dangerously

Before you ask, that is neither my behind nor Himself's, and it was not we who were living dangerously. This is rather the only photo I took today, from my usual vantage point at the window, where I happened to look out just in time to see this roofer stand up cautiously at the top of his ladder, which is just hooked over the apex of the roof. These chaps terrify me when they work on a roof without harness or ... anything, really, other than good balance and a strong nerve. Fortunately it was very calm at that point.

I actually didn't get over the door till this evening, to walk along to choir practice. Somehow the logistics of finding labels for cases, sorting out shoes - sort of pre-holiday stuff - gave way to the utterly exhausting task of cleaning the en-suite shower. (It had annoyed me last night when I was washing my hair.) The amount of black gunk that accumulates in the little reservoir thingy under the outflow is horrendous - what makes it all? Why does it have form? By the time I'd spread the magic gel on the mildewed sealant, gone back and cleaned it off, howked all the stuff out of the outflow, taken all the bits downstairs to wash them in a bucket and throw the water down the outside drain to avoid clogging up anything else - by the time I'd done all that and half-soaked myself trying to hose it down without changing from rain-shower head to hand-held I was exhausted and ready to eat pasta and drink some wine.

And now I'm done, in more ways than one. I need to be up in time for a phone consultation with my GP - I hope he doesn't start work too early. And then I might pack my case ...perhaps.