Take a break, says Astrodienst, as I put down The New Yorker for five minutes and go to see what I should be doing.
As my morning's activities consisted of washing and replacing the dishes used by the bnb-ers and planting the white Lady Banks and honeysuckle I bought yesterday before retiring for a little lie-down with whatever I can get my mitts on to read, I would say the directive is being followed to the letter.
Of course, don't tell anyone, today's sequence of events could be almost any day of almost any week, but it's good to know my sloth is for once officially sanctioned by all them balls of rock and ice whizzing around out there - well, one of them, at least, and the others don't seem to be putting up too much resistance. Lucky me.
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