Pot Boilers

Oh the joy of modern appliances but why the fuck did I ever think that the Victorians were romantic? The Asshole not only called, but came equipped with a Bright New Shiny Boiler that will keep us from a slow and painful death. I love my plumber.
Now back in the executive writing chair whilst my love finishes the last of the mysterious pipe work. Oh the plain and simple happiness of writing without gloves, I even had a bit of a sweat just now.
Defrosted fingers are flying over the much missed keys - have already finished a chapter, fiddled with a poem and have now turned my attention to getting started on Julia Cameron's 12 steps to writing heaven. Have renewed and much warmed vigour and feel that I may even get back in the six o'clock saddle tomorrow to write the Morning (should be called 'dead-of-night') Pages.
Popped a large bottle in the fridge for later when we shall share curried delights purchased from the Multi-Balti down the road whilst stroking the freshly warmed radiators. Alcohol consumption plummeted to near zero in the last week replaced by soup-in-a-mug and large amounts of hot chocolate. Ah well, needs must, now back on daily rations.

Two hours later.....

Now completely out of love with the Asshole, BNSB has apparently just cost me something in the same region as a Lear jet. Smirking Asswipe has just left telling me about his forthcoming holiday in Kenya and I'm in no doubt that I've just provided him with the extra safari. Hope he gets eaten...........slowly!!!