shovels in dirt

On the first day of the holidays, the annual holidays from work, relax now, relax.

There is no alarm, it was turned off yesterday.

Make a cup of coffee, the first up, the first person awake.

The son is sleeping on the couch again, why does he get up in the middle of the night and lie down on the couch in the sitting room?

The cat is nowhere to be seen, it raided the biological waste in the night, made a mess, there is a fishead on the floor, a head attached to a fishy spine.

Read what news there is on the computer, not much is happening in the world. The British and their Brexit, just realising that nobody really cares; and the Americans with their President, realising that everyone is like trying to keep a straight face in the presence of a clown. The Germans moaning about their leader and the lack of change, but things are going well, so any change would probably be one for the worse.

Politics.

There are sounds now from a neighbouring house, building workers have started their day, the clinking of metal on brick, the sound of shovels in dirt.