Thursday, February 11, 2010

don't rise no more

As I went wading around the laundry floor this afternoon, chasing storm-puddles with a towel, it occurred to me that by all the dramatic laws of D.H. Lawrence I should be having it off with a gypsy.

"All right!" he cried. "All right! The water don't rise no more! All right!"


  1. Oh dear, I hope there's no serious damage...

  2. No. It always floods when there's sudden rain, so we know to keep anything damageable off the floor. The house is one of those old places with the laundry in a lean-to out the back, and whoever built this lean-to didn't build it waterproof. We have interesting cracks.

    Long story short: this morning the towels smell like a peat bog.

  3. So, you're saying you're a ??? Hmmm...I will say no more for fear it will get me into hot water...

  4. Well, whatever the towels were suggesting, they suggest it no more. The sun came out and they have been washed. Now they are dewdrop-fresh, or however it was described on my box of laundry powder.