a hundred and three in washing machine years

Another day of twiddling and vagueness. And housework, if you can call checking the washing machine to see if the cycle has finished (the switch is broken, it would probably cost more to fix than replace and I would have to dismantle the flat in order to get it out and a new one in, so I’m in heavy denial. It’s nearly thirteen years old which is a hundred and three in washing machine years).

But the washing is washed and hung. Or hanged. Whichever you do with washing.

And ironing is done, using the miraculous Cordless Iron. I have seen the future brothers and sisters and I’m telling you the irons don’t have wires coming out of the back. Oh yes.

Anything else? Well, I should have done more work, but I didn’t, so there.

Oh, and I started accumulating tracks for this quarter’s MeFiSwap. However much I try to make it a Rockin’ Compilation, it always ends up chilled. I blame Radio Three.