It is almost midnight and I am yawning my head off.
Mark is in the shower and I have dived into the office to try and think of something interesting to tell you.
So far I have drawn a blank.
It was Clean Towels Day, that was pretty good.
I think we underestimate the happiness that can arise from small but important details like clean towels and sheets. It is always a nuisance to get the towels clean and dry before we shower again in the evening, especially when it is raining, which it was today, but there is no pleasure like a scorching hot shower, followed by an icy rinse, followed by a brisk scrub down with a clean towel.
This has been my experience during the last fifteen minutes, and although I would not exactly say it was pleasant at the time, the contented glow which follows is entirely worth having.
I have cooked sausages, some wrapped in bacon. They were pretty good as well, although I don’t really eat them, because of indigestion. However they will provide Mark with nutritious and energy-giving breakfasts for the rest of the week, and I will feel like a virtuous housewife with a price above rubies.
Also I have been faffing about trying to get things to print out on our printer.
Many years ago, when we were running a proper office with VAT and other people’s PAYE, we bought a truly upmarket printer which promised to make our business run smoothly and with increased efficiency.
This turned out to be a fib.
I cannot think of anything much which would have done this for our business, short of setting fire to the office, preferably with all of our taxis in it.
If anything, it has been responsible for plenty of frustration on its own account, and when I finally keel over of a stress-related disease, you can all nod sagely and agree that the printer has helped to hasten it along.
If I had a pound for every time it has inspired me to the most terribly bad language, I would probably be able to afford about a gallon of printer ink.
Did you know that printer ink is one of the most expensive substances on the planet? It costs almost two thousand pounds for a gallon. Obviously nobody purchases it by the gallon, how dreadful to buy a bucketful and then have the dog knock it over.
I think the mistake that we made was in purchasing a printer which has a wireless link to the computer, which is the same as saying: no link at all.
Today I faffed around for half an hour, trying to remember how to pick my way through the assortment of choices offered whenever I am attempting to print something. I do not know how you are supposed to choose between PDF Format, Last Used Preset, Orientation, Collating Pages, Main Tray, and all the rest of the gubbins recommended by Apple. The implication is that you know what they all mean, and what difference they will make to your document, which even after eleven years of printer ownership, I don’t.
When I had finally made a selection, I pressed Send and sat back with a sigh of relief.
The printer chugged and whirred and slid its little row of ink cartridges expensively up and down, and then a notice came on to the screen that said: Printer Not Found.
I tried again.
This time it said: Printer Not Responding.
The third time it said: Print Job Not Accepted.
I dismantled everything, switched it all off, switched it on again, it worked for the moon landings so I hoped I was in with a chance, but the same response.
I changed all the little choices I had made on the Print Document page, in case I had accidentally pressed something that said: Don’t Bother To Print This After All, but nothing.
Readers, it took me almost an hour to print out one letter.
I could have written it faster, even with a quill pen on a piece of parchment. Even if I had had to go out and chase the goose and pluck my own quill first.
I am pleased to tell you that I managed it in the end, but not until I had practically emptied my supply of rude words, and it is an extensive one, because of being a taxi driver.
The printer is squatting smugly on the end of the desk even as I write this.
I want you to know that I hate it.
I am going to bed.
