Everything is Full of Gods

On a whim this morning, I loaded up the dishwasher, lit the blue touch paper and retired. After weeks of on-the-blinkiness it thrummed into life.

Benign neglect has come through for me yet again. With any luck the couches will now re-upholster themselves and the burned out light bulbs will summon up the energy for one last hurrah.

"Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive," as Robert Louis Stevenson observed, though he did add the unsporting caveat "and the true success is to labour."