About half.

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Less, actually.  A shower, no shave.  A good bit of cleaning in the visitor room, well a bit of tidying, a bit more sweeping, then mopping and rinse mopping.  All for naught.  I suspect I chased a bird off.  Not in anger, not to be mean either.  Just for peace of mind.  Peace for my mind.  Or not.  As suspicious as one can be, even if gifted/cursed with sight, certainty is not usually a grant, especially when dealing with dames.  I also changed the sheets, made the bed which is becoming nearly a daily, then took that and all other clothes back to be washed.

I am done for the day, save for making clotted cream perhap.  I have no butter and won't be up to being out for a bit.  Perhaps this will do.  If it isn't as hoped, next time I will use the whole cream to make butter.  I just want to try this.  Something to try by doing at least once before death, or the next death, certainly before the last one.  I'll need to see about a container, pyrex, that will give the desired depth, first making sure the oven will go low enough.  I do have pint jars to store the liquids, might even attempt scones with it.  I won't do jam, but I purchase low-sugar jams for rare treats.


Dang it, butter is reqired to make scones.  I'll think on things.

I was curious about something.  Satisfied.  Good  that I am heard.  The pure ghostly portion is a heavy thing, a fleshly double... is a bit much.  I may end up hated for that.  So be it.

Perhaps more work soon.  I am having great difficulty doing even this little.  Brutal effort for so little gain.  It is hibernation season, I can hope that is most of it.  I'll keep at it.  Good night.