Best laid plans...

It's Easter Sunday, & I woke at 8.30am fully intending to haul my sleepy ass up to the UES to go to church. I had pinpointed an Episcopalian church on 90th & Fifth, just by Central Park, that seemed as English as possible, with good music and Rite B liturgy. But then I had a funny turn - after I had showered, made up, found a don't-frighten-the congregation outfit (more difficult that I had thought) & located a suitably non blasphemous playlist on my iPod for the journey. So, now I am back lying on my (deflated) bed feeling most strange.

(I shld explain that when we moved in it was obvious that one room was sunnier & a little larger. So we tossed a coin on the understanding that large room equalled double air bed rather than trad bedstead. I won. And now I suspect that one of the mice has been chewing as my bed now deflates during the night, leaving me beached each morning. Problem is that I don't want to wake JD by reinflating the bloody thing.)

Oh the glamour of sub-letting.