For the first time in several months I am blessed with having a fully functioning electrical supply to my cottage. The partial failure had been no great pain, I adjusted, adapted, managed, but was inwardly steaming. Faults do happen, but consistently repetitive failings I take extremely personally, like they are beset upon me by a vengeful demon I have never wronged. I am patient in the face of adversary, but never forgiving, or forgetful. Once scarred my hide tends to carry the blemish eternally, as an angry welt that itches and irritates constantly, evermore.
I spent my time today expressing thanks for the relief, and celebrated by vacuuming carpets, dusting, and straightening shelves, the start of what is my annual spring-cleaning tradition. Bright sunlight do tend to show cobwebs most clearly, and those wispy constructs do seem to gather through winter at a most alarming rate.
By the end of Lent I anticipate everything will be ship shape and Bristol fashion, and I can wear my spectacles with a clear conscious.