I took a glance at Godzilla’s shoes.
They are in dire need of replacing. A sheet of cardboard and a rubber band or two would be a better alternative than what he’s wearing now.
I swear, along with numerous other items, shoes don’t last anywhere near as long as they did when I was a kid.
I perform some half arsed “Come on, you lot, get organised! I want to go!”
I do it half arsed because lately there has been little point in putting much more of an effort into it. I only get ignored anyway.
I have a few stern words to Grumpy Pants about the likelihood of him loaning a hand, or a loud voice, in order to get out of the house. Godzilla has been nagging me all morning to get the now (hopefully) functioning hand-me-down PC set up. I have already stated that if he shuts the fuck up and stops being obstructive and never, ever, ever asks me again, I will do it upon our return from purchasing shoes for him!
My delusion is that Grumpy Pants will set an example which Godzilla may follow, in terms of getting arse into gear and getting out of house.
Grumpy Pants goes for a shower.
I tick a thing off my list, eat, mutter some more words about please, please, please