Spring cleaning - belated or early; you decide

There's nothing quite like starting a blitz on the tidying and realising after several hours that the place isn't much tidier, but is now festooned in rubbish bags instead. Must remember to take those out tomorrow morning.

I guess I should mcontinue what I've started, but again, in the morning I think.

Still, if nothing else, shoving all those old bills and bank statements through the shredder was most satisfying.

Spring cleaning - belated or early; you decide

There's nothing quite like starting a blitz on the tidying and realising after several hours that the place isn't much tidier, but is now festooned in rubbish bags instead. Must remember to take those out tomorrow morning.

I guess I should mcontinue what I've started, but again, in the morning I think.

Still, if nothing else, shoving all those old bills and bank statements through the shredder was most satisfying.

Sunday morning blues

Sunday has dawned. Or so I believe. At 11.06am as I type this, it is clearly too light outside to be night time, but barely light enough – at least in yon garret - to really call day time. Outside, the wind and the rain are providing the energy and gusto (ha) the light lacks.

Looking around the indoor Stig of the Dump diorama that is chez Caddy I find myself torn. Intellectually I acknowledge that further tidying and cleaning is necessary, but emotionally and lethargically (and that’s a two-to-one majority), my inclination to indulge in said activity is draining away as I realise that I have already bagged enough rubbish to allow me to navigate without resorting to contortions for which this lardy body is eminently unsuited.

The hook upon which I hang this appalling lack of self-discipline is the fact that the small of my back is being quirky again. Not incapacitatingly so, but it might develop if abused, might it not?

My current mental preoccupation revolves around wondering whether or not to disturb friend Glyn sans LJ by phoning him up and getting an eta from him. Given the weather outside, I wouldn’t blame him for finding a reason/excuse for not travelling the breadth of London to tackle the woes of my PC.

My dilemma is simple: You may recall that he is my computer guru and since I am developing a hearty dislike of this lap-top, I am anxious that he come and wave his magic wand over the creaky desk top sitting comatose on the table (not least because my surfing of the internet has been curtailed, and I really, really hate not being able to use a real mouse and a full size keyboard – this either/or set up I am using is frankly pitiful). On the other hand, I am aware that it will require significant inconvenience for Glyn , and though I am willing to pour beer down his neck until his eyes bulge in recompense, I can sympathise if he decides not to bother on account of the inclemency of Sunday’s weather. Unfortunately that eventuality will condemn me to another month of this unsatisfactory arrangement, and then the lap-top goes back to its owner and I am without computer support at home entirely.

Fingers crossed.

Update

Ah, blessed relief.

Glyn just phoned to say he's starting out. The All Blacks v Wales game understandably took his attention this morning. Glyn being short for Glyndwr, you will understand his preoccupation with rugby.

Sunday morning blues

Sunday has dawned. Or so I believe. At 11.06am as I type this, it is clearly too light outside to be night time, but barely light enough – at least in yon garret - to really call day time. Outside, the wind and the rain are providing the energy and gusto (ha) the light lacks.

Looking around the indoor Stig of the Dump diorama that is chez Caddy I find myself torn. Intellectually I acknowledge that further tidying and cleaning is necessary, but emotionally and lethargically (and that’s a two-to-one majority), my inclination to indulge in said activity is draining away as I realise that I have already bagged enough rubbish to allow me to navigate without resorting to contortions for which this lardy body is eminently unsuited.

The hook upon which I hang this appalling lack of self-discipline is the fact that the small of my back is being quirky again. Not incapacitatingly so, but it might develop if abused, might it not?

My current mental preoccupation revolves around wondering whether or not to disturb friend Glyn sans LJ by phoning him up and getting an eta from him. Given the weather outside, I wouldn’t blame him for finding a reason/excuse for not travelling the breadth of London to tackle the woes of my PC.

My dilemma is simple: You may recall that he is my computer guru and since I am developing a hearty dislike of this lap-top, I am anxious that he come and wave his magic wand over the creaky desk top sitting comatose on the table (not least because my surfing of the internet has been curtailed, and I really, really hate not being able to use a real mouse and a full size keyboard – this either/or set up I am using is frankly pitiful). On the other hand, I am aware that it will require significant inconvenience for Glyn , and though I am willing to pour beer down his neck until his eyes bulge in recompense, I can sympathise if he decides not to bother on account of the inclemency of Sunday’s weather. Unfortunately that eventuality will condemn me to another month of this unsatisfactory arrangement, and then the lap-top goes back to its owner and I am without computer support at home entirely.

Fingers crossed.

Update

Ah, blessed relief.

Glyn just phoned to say he's starting out. The All Blacks v Wales game understandably took his attention this morning. Glyn being short for Glyndwr, you will understand his preoccupation with rugby.

Ah, it's all right again.

It's done.

I've lost all my email addresses and saved emails, plus about a dozen superfluous icons, but my PC is up and running again.

And it's marvellous to have back.

Oh joy.

Ah, it's all right again.

It's done.

I've lost all my email addresses and saved emails, plus about a dozen superfluous icons, but my PC is up and running again.

And it's marvellous to have back.

Oh joy.