Having to do laundry is god’s way of reminding us that we don’t like most of our undergarments. I like most of my socks, though. Aside from heating up leftovers for lunch, washing clothing and putting it on the line is the only genuine activity I have bothered to engage with today. I may not have spoken out loud unless I said things to myself in my sleep. Things like, “Mmm, sleep is great.” or “Stop dribbling in your own shoulder, Steve.”
I decided after writing that paragraph to say something out loud. Apparently when reaching for spontaneous words I am drawn to uttering “Bollocks!” A sonorous word with satisfying in-built plosives.
Saying things out loud is quite exhausting. I need further napping and then some yoghurt. Or to jump off a cliff. No cliffs in Exeter. Yoghurt it is.