It came to me in a muffled yet loud crash at 5:35 this morning. What the hell had just happened, an almost rushing sound yet with a solid bottom if you will. Jumping out of bed expecting to see a man in a balaclava wielding a crowbar and obviously not thinking straight as really I should be hiding in the cupboard amongst the itchy sweaters. The shower screen in my sons en-suite had exploded and jettisoned shattered safety glass all over the bathroom including the bath and sink and most likely the toilet too, he only closes the lid when his girlfriend comes round. This appraisal  before 6am, in the gloomy darkness of a opaque morning only encouraged me to head back to bed to grab the few minutes left before 6 arrived and I’d be forced to get up. Both myself and Mrs T, were subliminally spooked, too much so to sleep, and then I realised that this  incident had made me realise how much I miss Twitter. Its a bloody shame that ketamine drenched tyrant got his ketamine soaked hands on it… It was good place, and wanting to reconnect with a community of likeminded wastrels, I figured maybe Facebook has improved. Spoiler alert… It hasn’t and the amount of dead time I’ve spent back on it just doom scrolling for hours on end has had a detrimental effect on this load of balls. I believe the passion and dopamine is taken during the FB hours, leaving me with nothing, just an empty space with a hole in the centre leading to a colourless void. That was what I was seeing in my minds eye when I looked at my blank WordPress screen. 

So I’ve deleted it, and will sort out how to shut the whole thing down later on when I’ve got back in the saddle. So thanks exploding shower screen and I really am grateful for the glass dust embedded in my hands and right foot. I have horrific holes in my right sock at this time, it’s in the bin now, so will have to find a partner for the spare, which I’m sure I have. This sort of sock thing happens pretty often; I think I must stamp around all the time.

In other news; the global politicking isn’t getting any better, I’m hoping his shower screen explodes on him, while he’s on the toilet having a lazy wee and spouting foul baby talk on Truth Social covering him in angular shards and spilling his Diet Coke in his hair.