It works like this; I am one of those people who do not attach status to possessions, as evidenced by the fact that I never fixed that dent that a man put into my baby SUV because the car still ran just peachy. So, when my toilet seat developed a crack, no jokes Mutley, and then when Sally was here, broke through – I used the universal fix-it, duct tape. It worked just fine until the other side developed a crack (just how old that toilet seat was I have no idea). That was it for me and I informed Abdul I needed a replacement – pinches on my bum from handsome men are one thing, from an inanimate object – just not as much fun. Now that it’s here, whew.
Apparently all the scaffolding on the inner side of the big gate and museum at the entry to the Oudayas is a primping up of the walls. I am so pleased that the material appears to be that of the original, just as they did last summer out front. Now if they would just polish my cannons.
I’m off to the hammam tomorrow, oh joy and rapture! Which works out really well as I have another love scene to write. After they oil me up and massage me, the facial mask goes on, and then I’m left in the warm steam for thirty minutes or so – great for the creative process.