"I'm going to hang out the washing..."

... no, not on the Seigfried Line, nor on any other line given the weather we've been having.
("The wettest June since records began" apparently, and I'm not going to argue against that based on personal experience.  It's been slug heaven for months.)

But the washing is done, and I too am washed.  What a thing to make worthy of a note, but down amongst the details we are.
I'm aware of the larger world (given a degree of insomnia common with CFS, and that speech radio provides the best background noise for handling my tinnitus, the BBC World Service actually keeps me very well briefed,) but interaction with it has to be limited.

I used to have a bigger world.  I've been round the world twice, walked the Milford Track and to the top of Ayer's Rock, Uluru. (I understand that's now discouraged.)  I've celebrated New Year in Toronto listening to live jazz outdoors at -10c, and had my model trains on show in Santa Clara, California (I'm not sure getting them through airport security would be so easy, these days: all those odd wires and switches on x-ray).  I've had dinner with friends on the Peak in Hong Kong...
No, this isn't a regret list.
But it may be an assertion that I'm no less of a person now that my universe has shrunk (barring the rare expedition of vital necessity, usually medical,) to about 700 sq. ft.

Plus the internet.
Thank goodness for the internet.
And the good people one can meet without ever leaving home.
No, that's not artificial or reduced contact, to me.