Flat pack

A work meeting via teams began with a brief discussion about a manager at another LA that had died by suicide and how draining our workload had been of late.

It was briefly interrupted by a delivery driver and a call from my Dad.

Mr RIU returned from an optician appointment and spent a good few hours swearing at flat pack furniture. He really has no patience at all when doing jobs like this and I would have preferred that he had left it until I was able to help.

I drew on the packaging an expression of my feelings on that point. The packaging that will, no doubt, be left for me to dispose of when I return home.

I am staying with my Dad this evening. He is lonely, sad and grieving. I hope that my company helps just a little.