So, I’m sitting in bed with the laptop this muggy Thursday morning and wondering how on earth that giant blowfly has managed to hurl itself against the window so many times without concussing itself.

I’m also wondering if that rackety orchestra of cicadas I can hear outside have been performing all night, or is it just the ringing in my ears.

I wonder why I insist on finishing one of the library books I got out on Tuesday. I’m two-thirds of the way through it and everything about it annoys me. Bland characters, infeasible plot, lame dialogue. If it was a telly programme I would have switched it off hours ago.

I’m wondering what I’m going to do today. Garden? Walk the dogs? Faff around on Facebook?

Will it be Fish Pie for dinner, or Burritos?

And, should I make myself another cup of tea? Or divert into coffee?

The Other Harf is right; I really need to get a job.

 

 

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