that sinking feeling

It’s gone 9 o’clock and I still don’t have a blip.  When I go back over the day it neatly falls into two distinct halves.  The morning was a very pleasurable, lazy, catch up with an old friend, while the afternoon was simply draining.  Neither are particularly blipable.  

I’m almost on the verge of panic - I’ve never been this devoid of ideas at this stage of the day before.  Anniemay is, well not exactly smug, but she’s sitting on the sofa, iPad in her hands, half watching a new drama on BBC1, with a look which says something like, I’ve cooked a complex vegetarian dinner for five from first principles and still found time to blip and do all the other things that a wife and mother does, without complaint or fuss …..

I retreat into the kitchen and photograph the sink.

It’s blocked.  Or rather, the drain outside is blocked.  I spend the afternoon trying, without success to clear it.  I fashion a scoop from an old ladle (kept in my tool box for such eventuality) and zip tie it to a bamboo cane.  This is lowered down the drain and three bucket loads of … well, let’s say this … it’s not exactly consommé.  It’s not even vegetarian gruel because scoop number three brings up the remains of a small mammal.

Clearing this is beyond my skills and it will be a phone call in the morning to someone with a bigger ladle.  Goodnight.