Still life.

For a brief moment, life has some order. It's not wriggling
and fighting me like Shirley Crabtree on bad speed.

It's always slightly chaotic of course, rugs are constantly being
pulled and office politics always throws up new and splendid
ways of shitting into your surprised mouth.

But the sun is shining, and the new boiler has given the gift of hot water.
What can I say?