These themes of mortality and catastrophic discontinuation of cosmetics seem a bit bleak for a summer solstice, so I halfheartedly upload some images of high summer around our place.
[the washing drying in sunshine, bona fide Irish sunshine]
[the important contemplation of a butterfly]
[practising for the junior infants' sack-race]
But no, my heart isn't in it. Tom Waits on the CD-player and Hayden Carruth on the page are more in tune with that 3 a.m. feeling.
As though the lipstick crisis were not enough, our corkscrew has become Unreliable. Scottish Husband and I are thinking of Renewing Our Vows in the hope that someone will give us a new one, but that'll take a while to organise and, in fact, I haven't told him yet. Meanwhile, we are pitched past pitch of corkscrewlessness.
A comment flashes up on my screen. It's Anonymous from Romford, wondering whether I'd care to do some data entry from home in my spare time. I grimly moderate it. As though I had spare time! As though I could see beyond a future with no lipstick on this longest day.