I find myself waking up
with such a dry mouth during the night more and more just recently. I
must be sleeping with my mouth open. Must stop that. Mind you it's
amazing what happens when you are fast asleep. This morning I found a
great big hole in the arse of my favourite pyjamas - what happened
there?
I left for work a little
earlier than I needed to this morning; I had shopping to do. I needed
to replace the fluorescent tube starter for the fish tank. Regular
readers of this drivel may recall the fun I had at the local branch
of Pets at Home a few days ago trying to get such a replacement. I
thought I'd see if B&Q had one - they didn't, which surprised me.
So in desperation I tried the Canterbury branch of Pets at Home who
had the very thing I needed and it was less than two quid. Let's just
hope it works. Mind you I did have a little episode at the till in
that shop. The twit in front of me in the queue was trying to buy
half the shop's stock. He had more credit cards than sense, but
couldn't remember the PIN to any of them. After trying about a dozen
cards (three times each) he gave up, loudly cursed his bank, and went
home having bought nothing. That wasted ten minutes of everyone's
time.
As I was in the area I
popped into the cheapo bargains shop. All I wanted was a packet of
sweeties as a treat for my drive home later. Someone had asked for a
Euromillions ticket (the cheapo bargains shop has taken to doing
lottery tickets). The woman on the till couldn't operate the
lottery machine, and promptly broke it. Paper was pouring out of the
machine and was going all over the floor. It would have been
hilarious if I wasn't running quite so late. All the customers then
queued like lemons as all the staff milled about the lottery machine.
The priority was clearly to mend the machine before the boss found it
was broken rather than dealing with the paying punters.
So having lost twenty
minutes my piss really boiled as I got stuck behind two different
dustbin lorries on the last half-mile of my journey to work. The crew
of the first one knew they were blocking a narrow road, and so waved
me down a side street where I was promptly blocked by a second.
I made my lame excuses
for my tardiness to the boss, and hadn't been at work that long when
I got a message. "Daddies Little Angel TM"
was in charge back at the ranch and had taken "Furry Face
TM" for a walk to meet a friend of hers,
and their dog Sarge. Sarge, being "on the other bus",
is an advocate of "The Love That Dare Not Speak It's Name
(oo-er!)" He took a fancy to Fudge, as only a dog which
bowls from the pavilion end could. Apparently things got rather racy
(as only dogs which are "good with colours" can) and
Sarge got so over-excited that he was sick. All over Fudge. I gave
instructions that all dogs should have a shower - Sarge's one should
be cold.
Some days I am pleased to
be at work...
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