ripped

there are the habitual morning sounds, the bells and the aircraft. Six in the morning, all is well.
There is a sound of hissing in the head, a rushing sound like a mill race, steady. It is hard to define the pitch, it is just what the techinicians call white noise.

Get up, go to the bathroom.
Oh, never mind, today is thursday, and it is still time off work. Annual leave is what it is called in England, Urlaub in Germany.
And as the time of no work proceeds, get lazier and lazier.
Go back to bed, stretch the back, feel the muscles relax. All of these things are pleasant.

Guilt drives the lazy body out of bed, to the coffee machine, the family is still asleep.
Make a seven in the morning cup, sit down and read the news. Read about the american president, the man does not realise what he is doing. He will never be held to account, because that would require him to understand his own behaviour, he would be evil. The benefit of the doubt leaves him as a stupid rich kid who never grew up.
His choice.
Stop reading the news, the british prime minister, overestimating the importance of England, this is another delusional idiot.

Get up, now the son is up, go upstairs to look at the door glued yesterday. Remove the clamps.
The trousers catch on the table of the circular saw.
And now they are ripped.