Clean on me

I give thanks for putting on one of my favourite dresses and doing some serious housework, up ladders to polish the topmost windows and pulling the heavy plant pots out to clean in inaccessible nooks. I may be fresh out of fairy godmothers and handsome princes but I can still do the Cinderella chores pretending I'm going to out to lunch...if not anywhere near a ball! (Yes, I know there's more than one meaning to out to lunch...it's a cotton dress it will wash...)

It's hard to imagine when I might have a viewer again, or even a social visitor come to that, but it doesn't mean I'm not worth it (having visitors/viewers/a dirt free environment) plus it's really quite therapeutic making shiny order out of mess and grime, isn't it? Is it? To be honest I don't feel particularly theraped but I give thanks, as ever, for trying anyway. My back is, of course, is in a right old nark but it's letting me, despite the grumbles, so I have to give thanks for that too.

I give thanks by standing my TV box on its front on the carpet the aerial is willing to bring me signals for basic HD channels and red button offerings from Wimbledon...I just need to master the different wrist action to get it to pick up the signal from the remote control in this particular position...and vow not to vacuum close by for two weeks!

I give thanks for a scone from the freezer with jam and cream. For trying to meditate, to focus on my breath going in and out instead of the toing and froing upstairs. And though that failed that I did drift into a little siesta...