Running and Haircuts
I began “Week 5” of the “Couch to 5K” running programme this morning – three five minute runs, with three minute walks in-between. I could really have done with an extra half hour in bed, but (thankfully) I'm pretty good at guilting myself into carrying on with the various idiot escapades I get involved in.
After getting back from the run I started clearing the kitchen around Miss 18, who was making eggy bread (french toast for the food snobs reading this). After finishing with the frying pan she threw it in the sink – which melted the washing up bowl. Genius move. When she asks about the smell of burning plastic the next time she uses the frying pan, I'll remind her.
I just cut my hair. I've been cutting it myself ever since we went into lockdown – or rather, mostly cutting it – my eldest daughter typically tidies up the back for me (it's kind of hard to see the back of your own head).
There's an old saying about idle hands and the devil's work, isn't there – which would probably apply if I believed in any of that nonsense. I always find it interesting that people “of faith” tend to frame anything they would prefer others didn't do in terms that suggest some form of supernatural retribution.
Along with countless others, I've been watching the news this week, and trying to process what's going on. I'm not going to mansplain any of it – I just wanted to express my frustration with the world in general sometimes. We never learn. The same patterns repeat, endlessly.