Shock to the system.

Getting up early has never been my thing. Ever. It's the middle of the night as far as I am concerned. Only ten more weeks until Marathon day. I'll be fine, why yes I really will be...
The little Goth kid has a new hair cut. It is considerably shorter. This is our actual conversation over the phone on the weekend.
'I don't know if I like it. It's so short.'
'Just give it a chance Gothy. I'm sure it's lovely.'
'I look like one of those people who collect kids from school, what do you call them?'
Pause.
'Mothers, Gothy, they're called mothers.'
'Yeah, one of them.'

And I may need glasses- well I already have glasses, but I may need to wear them more often. ANd by more often I DO mean all of the time.
'Look Paramour! A rabbit!! At the bottom of the garden, look.'
Paramour looks, laughs.
'Honey, that's the Marklar.'
'Really? Are you sure?' Squints. ' Is he nibbling grass?'
'He's licking his read rocket.'
Puts glasses on. World swims comfortably into view.
'Oh.'


Also, my washing machine door won't open, and all of my socks are in there. They have been washed three times now in my imbecilic attempts to open the blasted thing. Anyone any idea how to solve that one?

Bah.