Puttering indeed.

I'm procrasti-cleaning, putting off writing the minutes of the latest choir board meeting. While I'm at it, I moved a small bookcase from the study to the bedroom and dusted all the baseboards (how to tell you're not just cleaning, but actively avoiding another task).

With no rug in the bedroom, thanks to Watson, I have to be even more punctilious about keeping the floor dusted in there. That task is easier with more room around the bed for bending over and swashing the dustmop or the vacuum cleaner underneath. To that end, the enormous chest of drawers moved across the room and the considerably less enormous bookcase took its place.

And now I want to move the pictures, and put up the new one my sister-in-law gave me for Christmas. But I really have to write those minutes, and the choir newsletter -- the deadline is coming at me like the noon freight.

One final note: I envy Dorothy her outings to old-time music and open-mike events. I finally got to play a few tunes on Thursday with my fiddler friend, who has finally quit her draining classroom teaching job, but that's about the sum and total of my non-family social life that isn't choir practice.

Grocery shopping doesn't count, Dorothy!