Anything for a quiet life

After yesterday’s unwelcome excitement, courtesy of a local drunk, Dick, I was hoping for a quieter end to the week.

As I drove the car out to take the dogs for a walk, I noticed two broken beer bottles. One just outside the driveway entrance and one which appeared to have been thrown in.

Dick again.

I took the dogs down and managed to run into the Ladies and Mr Nic, so I could return the walking stick and when I got home, swept up the glass and put it in a plastic bag. I was tossing up whether to take it to the police, but then decided against it. Having a local police station is great, but is is not staffed full time and the last time I went there to hand in a wallet I had found in the park, it made me an hour late for work. I ended up putting the bag of broken glass in my garage, with a vague idea I might use it ‘later’, whatever that meant.

The day passed quickly enough but by the time I got home I was shattered and still am. I am not sure why I am so tired all the time just recently, but I suspect it is a combination of painkillers with codeine, being woken at four when my husband gets up, some really detailed and exhausting dreams I had this week and my attempts at an early night being thwarted by a number of things, but for the most part, Dick.

So for the second time since I committed to a post a day, I am barely scraping the bare minimum. I am lying in bed, literally typing one-fingered and all I want to do is sleep, which I may for a while. That is, until the next time that car alarm goes off, or Twitter pings to tell me uselessly that someone I follow has posted a picture – WHY DO THEY DO THIS???- Or I awake to hear Dick yelling abuse at the top of my driveway.

Till tomorrow- when hopefully I can do something better than moan.

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