Weekend Writing Prompt.

I’ve only done this a few times, so Hello Sammi, from rural Worcestershire, life’s taken to lethargy and has one eye on retirement having experienced it for a substantial time during these last 9 weeks or so. I’m only 48, I’m not going to retire for a long time yet, regrettably>

I’ve mixed feelings.

My knees are burnt by the sun, hands scaly and taut from concrete. My exposed skin is tanned, due to this compulsory DIY.

If I wasn’t in a lockdown, this weather would have suited me and my job, when it’s like this working outside is splendid. However, as it is, I’m stuck here and find myself building a terrace; schooled against my will, and according to an invisible unpredictable timeline.

I’ve glimpsed retirement, in the Spectral Viral Lull. Working again; I’m hoping for a downpour.

There we are, thats my take on enforced DIY.

6 comments

  1. Whenever I used to take on a DIY job, there was always a point, halfway through, when I would ask myself “why the fuck did I start this?” And never anything so grand as a terrace, so well done.

    Liked by 1 person

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