Summertime Ben-isms

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Just completed my first yoga session in 20 years—the second in my life. Everything hurts. Even my hair.

I had a hell of a shock this afternoon – something flashed past me at 60,000 miles an hour. What could it be? A UFO? A meteor? Donald Trump’s hair? Then I realized it was the British summer.

I put a lot of effort into putting no effort into everything I do.

I am not impressed by my new memory foam shoe inserts. I still got lost walking home last night.

My new short story is finally beginning to take shape. A Truncatedicosahedron springs to mind.

Ben’s Triumph of the Day: as per the manufacturer’s instructions, to prevent my reliable clothes washer from ever leaking, I cleaned all of its filters, removed limescale, uncogged pipes and ducts, tightened this and checked that. Then ran it. And it leaked.

June 3rd! Summer! London! That can mean only one thing. Time to turn the heating on.

I applied for a job as a submarine commander. I didn’t get it. They said I’d be out of my depth.

 

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