not to scale
Spending time doing things around the house, small household tasks that are inessential in themselves, but might make things easier, more pleasant, different, anyhow. Then I sit around waiting for the mail to arrive; it has been on hold and there should have been two books in along with the assorted envelopes that look ominous but merely convey the wasteful message that it is not in fact a bill, but rather an explanation of benefits, as though it were to anyone’s benefit to be a nipfarthing about one’s health. But the mail does not contain any of those things, only a misdirected catalogue and small letter from a friend, which was pleasing, but not anticipated. I fill out the online forms to gripe about the missing parcels, but feel off-kilter and out of sorts – unsatisfied. So easy a thing, to knock oneself off balance.