No Rest for the Wicked

Recently I’ve been too busy. There’s been no time to enjoy the simple things in life.

I found myself staring into the mirror for one hour and 45 minutes, astonished over a haircut I suffered two weeks ago. Do not worry. It’s gone away now. I’m ok.

I filled my iron with milk.

Norman backwards is NAMRON. I think this sounds like a sinister science corp. or a useless, world saving organisation. I found an old ball of bluetac and picked the bits out of it for a while.

I sanded down our kitchen table and used maple syrup to give it a rich glossy finish. I checked the GDP of several large countries against my own bank account. It turns out they are all doing much better than I am. Even the smaller ones.

I turned all the plants round in the house. I froze a shoe. I grazed my knee on purpose then did a lap of honour around the kitchen. I imagined the toughest soldier I could, qualified myself for a place on Survival Island (alongside the toughest soldier) and then melted a dead bee.

After I’d finished these chores I sent an email to Mr Motivator’s agent asking about their favourite sandwich.

By the time everyone got back from work, man was I pooped! So I took a little nap. After such a busy day I think I earned it.


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