A day in the life of nobody cares

 I don’t know what it is, but some people are really missing the whole toolbox. This guy, he knows my routines, still he insists on calling at my greatest inconvenience. Of course if I don’t answer, he just keeps calling. When I finally do answer, he holds me up for one and a half hours ranting absolute meaningless twaddle of everything he disapproves of around him. If I tell him I’m busy preparing my lunch or dinner, I get a lecture on how he hardly eats anything. When he does, it’s usually at some ungodly hour. If I’m trying to do some work, I get a lecture on how he doesn’t feel up to doing anything. He never gets up before 11, say nothing of taking 3 hours to get his ass in gear. The house he inherited still hasn’t been cleared out and is slowly falling apart around his ears. He wanted me to help him, but keeps retracting in short notice. He has this fucking Kangoo that I swear is his life’s blood and even picks the little rocks out from the tire treads. He drives it around to every discounter in town looking for the cheapest possible deals only to hoard them in his attic or larder. I swear there’s enough stuff stashed there that could accommodate a whole family for the next 3 years. He doesn’t have internet and the mobile he bought is still sitting in the corner collecting dust. He always keeps trying to discuss the news. My father used to do that until I set fire to his paper right there at the breakfast table. Of course the TV sucks. It always has since Murdoch took over RTL. He likes to ruminate about about his days stationed in Ramstein as opposed to the nursing career he ended up following. I honestly think what’s missing in his life is a drill sergeant, like I haven’t had enough ass to kick all these years. Thanks but no thanks. I’ll be glad when this lockdown is over.