Orlando

He - for there could be no doubt about his sex - is my Suzuki Aerio automobile. I call him Orlando because my last car was called Emily, so that name has been taken, and because he is sleek and golden and androgynous, and also because he is beautiful like Orlando Bloom. He is the first car I've ever had that was completely my own. Because he's had no previous owners, and because I'm a reasonably good and careful driver, he has never been ill treated, except perhaps that because I'm also vaguely environmentally conscious (and fundamentally lazy) he doesn't get washed as often as he would probably like. His gold paintwork doesn't show the dirt, so I can get away with this more than if he were, say, blue, or black. I took him in for servicing today and was pleased to be told that he is still in the full vigour of youth, all systems working smoothly and well.

And in other news

It was considerably cooler today, so much was accomplished, besides taking car in to be serviced. I purchased a number of arcane items meant to help me put socks on and reach my toes in the bath (not both at the same time, mind you) post surgery. I finished piling all the old carpet in the driveway and phoned Refuse Sam, my favourite hauling company, who will come and pick it up tomorrow morning at 8:30 am. I cleared out the hall cupboard and took the broken door off and added it to the pile for Refuse Sam. I built a little organizer drawer thingy from Ikea to go in the hall cupboard and hold my vhs video collection. And I unplugged the sink in my bathroom. So there.