It was quite simple, really: go into the front yard; open the front gate and put the wheelie bin outside; then get the bed linen off the drying-rack-thingy and bring it into the house.
It was only when the passing cyclist gave me that look that says in all languages of the world: “Why has that balding farang just wheeled his fully laden drying-rack-thingy out through the gate and put it where the bins go?” that I realised I might have been working too hard these last few weeks.
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