What's New, Pussy-cat?

To a title like that, readers 'of a certain age' will respond, "wa-a, wa-a-aa-a wa!"  I suppose I must be of that same 'certain age' even to suggest that, but I'm not sure what that age actually is.  Anyway, for me, the answer is definitely an unmusical "nothing!".  Now that the multiple festive hype is over, and life is back to normal, it's definitely 'same old, same old'.

A number of sources close to my normal way of life have been suggesting that the key word for 2020 is 'forward' and indicating that I should be looking forward to what is to come instead of back to what is past.  While there is obvious wisdom to this, because what is past cannot be affected one jot by looking back to it, thinking, regretting or worrying about it, thus far into the new year I've seen little hint of anything to which to look forward.

This is therefore a post about nothing or, at least, nothing of significance.  I returned from my midwinter break on Wednesday afternoon and the next morning the old routines kicked in.  The hours at the drop-in were highlighted by the dismantling of a decorated tree, and packing away a typical stable display.  There was some amusement over the problems of being unable to sleep in a house where all the spare rooms are allocated to visitors.  "You just have to lay still, grin and bear it," we were told, "because there's nowhere to go and any movement will disturb someone else who is asleep!"  One person turned up to be advised about a personal matter; he and another had breakfast, and I left early to do some shopping.

The afternoon at the hospice warehouse followed much the same course as usual.  My new colleague still hasn't been allocated his own computer log-in, so every time his screen went dead he had to call the supervisor to come and log him in again.  My manager is bemoaning the fact that she is overweight and needs to diet before taking part in the 'Muddy Mayhem' event at the end of February.  This isn't helped by a colleague telling of a friend who lost four stone following a particular diet that involves eating copious amounts of something that my manager doesn't like.

Today's post brought the second of two parcels I'd been expecting from the other side of the world.  Much on-line purchasing is made on impulse, but the time it takes to deliver the goods means that that inspiration, and the enthusiasm-fired skill learned from an on-screen guide at the time of order has evaporated by they arrive.  It was typical, therefore, that, of the two, one was perfect for its purpose while the other will sit in the drawer unused, simply because I can't figure out how it works!

I was going to make a couple of financial phone-calls today, but I find myself questioning whether or not it's right to do so, and so have parked them until next week, by which time my doubts may have become concrete or have evaporated.

And it's the holiday-booking season.  Catalogues have been arriving, the contents of some of which look attractive, but are clearly too expensive to contemplate.  Others - the majority - just don't appeal and have been binned.  Given the way the recycling facilities around here have been abused in recent weeks, I can't afford the luxury of binning too much because I fear there will be nowhere to empty the bin!

Life goes on, its 'excitement' unabated ... as you can tell.