It’s taken me an entire day to accomplish half an hour’s worth of work. It’s tea time, and yet I am still in the final phase of getting dressed. And it’s only Monday
I sit down heavily on a kitchen chair, shoes in one hand and two socks from the dryer in the other. Although the socks are roughly the same shade of grey, I can tell as I put the second one on that they have markedly different thicknesses. Not for the first time since waking, I am left wondering why life must be so hard.
“You need to stop making that noise,” my wife says.
