In spite of the rain stopping, the river is in a hurry, much to the distress of the ducks who don't know whether to go down forwards or sideways. They are swivelling about and bumping into the reed banks, which I've never seen before.
It's one of those days. I have to sort out lots of paperwork stuff, then I need to look at things I want to write, but don't know how to. One task is boring, the other is difficult and perplexing. So I am flottering about.
I have sorted out needlework stuff. I have put the beads in a new box, and even had a little tidy up. I hung up a new bird feeder. Before starting the blog, I spent a minute or two cleaning out the bits of fluff and dust that get between the computer keys. (A visiting card comes in useful for this.) It's not pottering, it's fluttering from one thing to another. Flottering.
Somewhere in this house, there are pencils to be sharpened.
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