What the eye doesn't see

 The year before last I dropped a bottle  of whisky while unpacking the shopping.  I rushed to get the mop but before I could do much most of the whisky had run under the fitted cupboards.  Short of dismantling the kitchen there was little I could do, apart from picking up  the glass.  This morning the bottle of softener slid from my hands,  bounced on the tiled floor, spun round and managed to cover just about everything.  My bare feet skated, ungraciously, across the floor,  which was like  a sheet of ice, but warm.   Unable to stay upright I grabbed a cloth from  under the sink and tried to clear a path for me to walk on.  Having failed miserably I managed  to crawl to where I keep the mop.  When I returned most of it had seeped under the cupboards, leaving a slippery film across the floor.  It smelled better than the whisky but oh dear, so  much more difficult to clean up.  I hope my buyers don't decide to reconfigure the kitchen.  What the eye doesn't see the heart won't grieve over.

I am packing up my worldly goods for about the 39th time.  The removal company brought me boxes, small boxes, which are ok for books and cutlery but how exactly do I get a duvet in it, or even a rolling pin?  They do need to be properly packed as it is all going into storage, so another email.  Some things never get crossed off the list.

During the hot weather I go out for a walk at about 6am, before breakfast and while it is deliciously cool.  Well I am not allowed to  play tennis until at least September and I have to get my exercise somehow.  As though packing up an entire house on my own isn't enough exercise to be getting on with.

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