...
There has been, perforce, some fairly major plumbing action going on here lately. It has been, of course, darn costly, and so costly I am still, and even more, prevented from devising a way to get a real bathtub. [Maybe I can get a drone to drop one into my yard and cause my neighbors to stroke out.] In the midst of the compound debacle it has been necessary for me to do quite a bit more physical activity than usual... including mopping places that aren't exactly amenable to it with any ease... and, now, at last, and at too much length, I am forced into my not-a-tub to commune in shifts my various body parts with some epsom salts in my effort to stop aching. At least I can say I don't have to cope with a stupid shower curtain, but I'm going to be in there stewing about drones doing our killing and our building, removing us even further from reality, from nature, from our birthright.
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