Nothing Interesting Happens.
I stare at it for a bit, but it does not magically re-assemble itself.
If I were married or had a girlfriend someone would now be saying:
“Well don’t just stand there staring you idiot!”
But I don’t even have that as a distraction.
Taking my splinter-strewn washing indoors I then make myself some boiled eggs that are not boiled satisfactorily. I begrudgingly eat at my dining-table and not in the sun on the patio.
There is a ‘thud’ from the letter-box.
A new box-set. Things are looking up.
The DVD player no longer works.
I go out to buy some compost. I have sunflowers to re-pot. There isn’t any compost to be found in a 5-mile radius. At all. Nor is there available any generic ‘No-More-Nails’ – style wood glue to allow me to clumsily transform what is now a small amount of kindling into a table-shaped object.
Attempting to purchase the Saturday edition of my favourite newspaper, I am thwarted by the fact that it is now actually Sunday because I’ve lost track of the whole thing what with all these bloody Bank Holidays.
I arrive home empty-handed.
Scratching at my partially-successful beard I reflect that the day is not going as I would wish.
NEXT: As an indirect result of nothing interesting happening, something odd – but not terribly interesting - happens!