'And no I say no I won't no'

petronia is half my chronological age but has always been a lot older than I am, even when we first met- online- and she was a third my chronological age. (Mathematical progressions are consoling.) So I was heartened by her casual revelation that she too has been slow to wash the dishes and is glad of her current ability to do same without fuss. Mind, she'll have a dishwasher at her place, which helps in the process. Some. Because I can distinctly remember, the three years I lived with a dishwasher, what a struggle it was to make myself empty it. Right behind changing the duvet cover: most hated task of the 80s.

Where do these grand refusals come from? Like weeds, resolve one and three more pop up in their place. I too have (more or less) come to terms with the dishes, and vacuuming (almost a pleasure with my new lightweight beast), and flossing my teeth. But now I balk at slicing the strawberries I love to have on my morning cereal. Flossing is not a problem anymore, but I sullenly resent having to brush. We won't even talk about washing the kitchen floor or the stairs. (I blame the loss of alkyd enamel for the last. Alkyd repels grime. Water-based attracts it.)

All, doubtless, are new opportunities to practise mindfulness but (grump) I don't *want* to practise mindfulness. Why should I *have* to practise mindfulness? sulk sulk sulk.

"Et puis, le fond de tout, c'est qu'il n'y a pas de grandes personnes." But where in the world did the grown-ups vanish?