Nothing much

My flatmate (oh, I sound so British) and her boyfriend are chatting in dialect while watching Friends in Italian. This makes for a very disorienting experience (for me).

However, I hope this keeps them occupied for the next twenty minutes or so, because I'm cooking my dinner and generally prefer not to have witnesses, just in case something goes horribly wrong. (I'm boiling rice, at the moment, so it's hard to imagine what this might be, but you just never know.)

Today, during an unprecedented spurt of domesticity that coincided quite handily with a morning's worth of free time, I did some ironing. It must have been contagious because the flatmate got up from her breakfast and diligently began to mop the floor. Not wanting to be outdone, I washed the windows. I am happy to report that I did not burn my fingers or char any of my bedlinens during this morning of domestic productivity. Unfortunately, the bedlinens involved do not look significantly smoother than before. And the windows look a bit streak-y, despite my best efforts, which involved standing precariously on a chair in the kitchen and inhaling copious amounts of window spray.

I would bake my no-fail yogurt cake to restore my confidence in my (largely nonexistant) home-making abilities, but it has recently come to my attention (approximately twenty minutes ago) that I do not possess a measuring cup here in Italy. Ah, well.

The flatmate is emerging from her bedroom, which makes me feel the need to go do something industrious in the kitchen. Perhaps I will cut up a pear. Pears, like most fruit, are good for your digestive tract (and mine). And, more importantly, not much can go wrong in the chopping up of a pear, even if you are me, so this will provide a distraction so that my rice can get on with its business without attracting unwelcome attention.