Not Quite Wasted

There are mornings when you wake up to find that overnight, rather than cooling down, it has somehow
grown hotter and more disgustingly humid. You go out onto the verandah and water your plants. You fill up the birdbath and then you sit down on the bench near the birdbath, and you find yourself thinking, painfully, 'It was so nice to see our old friends from Western Australia yesterday evening, but was it really wise to agree to that fourth bottle of wine, however much we wanted to toast our reunion?'

Looking round, slowly, your neck stiff and your whole head - your whole being, let's face it - fragile, you wonder if you will achieve a single worthwhile thing all day.

Which is when you notice a sleek little bird dart down from the apricot tree, land on the edge of the birdbath, glance about and then plunge into the water. It opens its wings and suddenly beads of water are flying up around it. It flies off, but a minute later it returns, repeating the process with even more enthusiasm. It leaves once again and then dashes back just as quickly, this time with a companion. They seem as delighted as children as they lark in the cool liquid.

Maybe your day will not be entirely wasted after all.