The last pieces of furniture that can be moved by amateurs are now in their new spots, and Kathleen the housecleaning cat-minder is attacking the kitchen. Edmund was a frying fool, and the stovetop has looked like the wrath of God since about twenty minutes after it was installed three years ago. Kathleen is more committed to the art and craft of scrubbing than I, and I hope she can reduce the evidence of too many bacon-and-egg breakfasts to a negligible level.
How's your bursitis, Stilly? The only effective home remedy I know of for that ailment is Advil, which folks our age should probably consider a food supplement. I have heard of people who are allergic to the stuff, and I wonder how they manage.
The inflamed ligament in my right foot is still inflamed, in fact not much improved at all, after six weeks of laser therapy. It still feels like a rock in my shoe, and I can't walk even a mile without resorting to a heavy limp. At yesterday's visit to the chiropodist, I learned that the next level of intervention is cortisone shots, and I'm close to convinced that the sooner we start doing that, the better.