What a strange and curious week it has been too. The museum is finally open to the public, so my days have been spent rushing around trying to get everything set up so no volunteers gets infected/passes anything on/ditto visitors/that all the changes around the building are clearly signposted/that all the new exhibits are labelled/that all the displays and cases are moved to their new positions/that everywhere is clean and tidy and all cobwebs are removed. Eesh.
There have been days where I've ordered the Boyfriend to meet me at the pub after work so I can press pause for an hour before heading home to deal with general life admin with a reviving pint inside me.
But there are still touches that press pause on life and give a moment of reflection. Good touches.
A ladybird crawling up my arm
The water of the swimming pool closing over my limbs
Clean sheets against smooth legs
The squidge of damsons in their draining bag
Mabel's spiky claw puncturing my thumb as I tease her with a grass stem and forget about her lightning reflexes (and in-built weaponry)
The feather-stroke of a newly planted fern
The brush of the heavy-duty cotton my new winter skirt is made from.
Mabel. Comepletely not sorry about the spiky incident.