horrible

the blinds in the window of the house on the opposite side of the street go up.
it is a quarter past nine, the son has been awake since early this morning.
He has been sitting in front of his computer.
Coding.
Things that are important to him.

The cat is on the window ledge.
Bored.
She makes a discontented noise
Then she gets up to check on her food supply.
In the kitchen, that is where her bowl is.

Ask the son whether or not he wants to go out.
A grunt is the reply.
He is concentrated on his computer.

Later he gets up from the machine
he is still in his night clothes.
And says, yes, he would like to go out.
So tell him to get dressed first.
This is Sunday morning.
This is the usual domestic chaos.
This is horrible.