May 4th(Sun)

Thankfully the ears have stopped chiming and I am up reasonably early, again feeling fairly human.
I look at the place. What a dump we live in, and here goes another weekend in which we will do nothing about it. I spend two hours getting the kitchen reasonably tidy, and listen to Zep on the disfigured laptop. H joins in and clears out the cupboard.
I look aroundTheir are nine drawers and four of them eother have no front, or it is hanging off at an angle. The ceiling is full of holes where we have removed the horrible old Hester lights but found nothing to replace them with. Half the wall tiles were removed about four months ago with no thought as to what was to replac them. Every surface is covered with grease or dust, or the lethal combination grease and dust. There is rubbish everywhere. the kids just discard empty sweet packets where they stand, and gravity does the rest. The cupboards are so stffe full of stuff we'll never use that it's impossible to find anything we need. Touch one tin or jar and it provokes an avalanche. You grab the first two falling items then realise you have run out of hands, try an juggle a third, and then just give up as once more gravity is the master.
after two hours it's at least looking a tidy wreck though, and I am pleased with our efforts.
I recant to the telly and the bust laptop which is buging me more than ever. All four suspects have been interviewed, and naturally all deny complicity.
A couple of hours later and H returns from Asda. A while later I go into the kitchen. Sophie sits there with plates of toast crusts spread over the table, the butter knife is stuck to the work surface, the butter is left out. Her work is spread over table and floor (her bedroom no longer possessing a vacant work surface) The shopping has arrived and is strewn all over the floor. The place looks like a fucking bomb has hit it, but it's me that explodes.
It ends with Sophie and myself screaming and swearing at each other, and I go way too far by sweeping her schoolwork onto the floor.
H tidies the place up and I cook the dinner, indignant but remorseful. Sophie disappears in a huff, but does return for the grub. She shuns my kiss to say sorry, but is actually rebuked by H or that.
In the circumstances dinner passes in quite a convivial manner. I've had too much sherry and too much wine though, and once pudding has been scoffed, my evening is at an end. It's past midnight when I awake, only to head straight down to bed.