Power Of Three
Woke up to a sparkling frost with grass like peppermint ice. Had a bother with the car door, which sometimes freezes shut. Today it locked itself open, hence the drive to the garage with binder twine tying me in, thinking I need a new lock on this, how much is a new lock? I have forty-five pence in my purse! Mr Garage Man squirts some WD40 and laughs at me. There is something wrong with the lock but it's the wrong time to protest: the right time to say thank you and drive Boy to school. He has his walking boots on and I brought Dog, thinking we might all have to walk home while the car was garaged.
Take Dog to the park instead, where ancient pines hold symmetrically foliaged twigs up to cerulean sky, and the horizon is made of rolling moor hills. After much running, fantastically backlit, she comes back to the car with icy belly fur, dog-stalactites.
At home, I don't have to fumble for my house key with numb fingers, as Boy has thoughtfully left his in the door for me. I warm up with some housework, mainly dragging Dog fur off the carpet with heavy handed vacuuming. Until the tube snaps, then I have to get the brush. Brushing carpets warms me up very well indeed. After handling chili peppers, at lunchtime I also warm up my eyes. When they've calmed, I shall seek out some duct tape and mend the hoover. These things are not turning out as presupposed, but not so bad: with deft surrender, rather fun.
(Wondering about the title? Binder twine, WD40 and duct tape are the three most useful objects in the universe.)