It’s a beautiful sun-shiny morning. I can tell because there’s a hint of blue sky coming through the little space in the kitchen window that isn’t covered by the dishes stacked higher than my head in the sink (I’m 5’1”, but that’s still quite a dirty-dish landmark.)
The stack of dishes with rotting food crust is but a hint of the kitchen landscape which lays beyond.
I have been violated. This kitchen chaos has been done TO me. I have been victimized by inconsiderate, prepubescent arseholes.
I could go outside and enjoy my morning coffee with the sun on my back – at least until the coffee makes me poo – but I’ve decided instead to sit here at the kitchen table to maintain my anger for a really good blow-up when the perpetrators rise from their beds.