Sunday Morning

I'm up early. I'm always up early. The open fire still has red coals, which you have to love early on a winter's morning.

I make coffee. And read the news.

Milo cuddles up while he can, unhindered by the red monsters.

I'm hoping today is a do nothing day. Of course, we'll have to clean, that is non negotiable from he who must be obey. Ha ha. You know it just that I am a lazy bastard and if it was up to me, I'd clean every 6 months, of when I can't stand the sight of dust tumbleweeds blowing across the kitchen floor, so I need to be, shall we say encourage some what. But other than that?

I'm guessing, Boris has fucked off overseas to see her family by tomorrow, I'm not sure she actually told me the dates, even if there are several emails in my inbox from her that I haven't bothered to read, as yet. 

I sit patting Milo wondering if I really am a soft touch, you know? I don't want to fill in for Boris, I don't want to do her work for her, but every year I say yes, like a dope. Am I just an idiot? Do I just like to whinge? I have to wonder?

I hope The Big Poo doesn't think I am working full time? Ah! Screwing my hands into balls. He probably does. Grrr!

I read about the South Australian Liberal Party being taken over by devout Evangelical Christians and wonder if the world really is going to hell with these retrograde individuals gaining some sort of power. Why would the general public listen to these delusional politicians  who are really just essentially importing the worst of America into this country?