I inspect my building work.
I tend to do this at the weekends, when the builders are not there. If I go during the week, I have to be complimentary about bits of carpentry, plumbing work etc., whereas at weekends I have a bit more leeway to drop to my knees in horror and let out long, long primal screams of rage and despair.
This time, I am particularly worried about the radiators. Some of the pipes have not yet been connected. I have been watching a lot of Doctor Who recently, and I am worried about things crossing over from the divide. This seems to happen quite a lot, almost every week in fact, and regardless of whatever bad economic or social situation there is on the other side, I would prefer the things to stay there and tough it out rather than using my pipework to flood in to this world.
There is no evidence that this has happened so far. But I will talk to the plumber. You cannot be too careful. We cannot afford to send out the message that this dimension is an easy touch.
In the lounge there is a pile of my stuff, heaped underneath the most ineffectual dust-sheet in the world (and probably in other worlds as well. I do not know. I am too courteous to spend my life migrating between dimensions). I originated this pile, stacking it with the heavy things at the bottom; it has been moved several times since. Looking for a particular light fitting I need, I remove the covers and rootle around.
I find something I haven’t seen for some time.