What lies beneath

After another night of being kept awake by Shu and his computer games, I was finally roused completely just before seven by the post office vans opposite, all in a froth of movement. Clatter went the clattery trolleys up the slope from the depot to the front door; clatter they went back down. Now they’re normally a pain in the arse anyway, but at least they’re a pain in the arse I can sleep through, whatever Shu has been up to, the cunt. Was the PO making up for lost time over the Bank Holiday, still?

At around seven-thirty I had my answer. Today marks the start of the resurfacing of our street. Some sort of roadwork dinosaur began scraping its way along the street, in beepy reverse, followed by a large tipper truck, also reversing. It was just as well I was awake by this point, as a workman rang on our doorbell asking me to move my neighbours’ cars. Am I my neighbours’ cars’ keeper?

This will be a fun last week of no permanent job, given they’re meant to take “three days” but, since nine, have been absent from the length of the street.

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