In the clutter of housework,unwashed clothes piling up in the basket,unkempt beds ,I really have to create space in between work and home to pour out my thoughts onto paper.Sometimes the bone chilling plainitive cries of a love sick tom cat distracts my train of thoughts in the dead of the night-the idiotic feline that had the guts to jump onto my sofa when I left the front door ajar to let in some fresh breeze.When pushed out,he had the audacity to scratch onto the glass sliding door with a hair raising squeak that irritates the nerves no end.
Sometimes at the weekend,smells from the kitchen of neighbours is so hard to resist and my stomach rumbles at the whiff of tasty meals,together with the cacophony of knives clanking on chopping boards and visions of stir fried meals in the metallic wok intrudes on creative juices.
Ahhh,the joy of a solitary weekend in the pine resort of Fraser's Hill with life uninterrupted.When will this story reach its conclusion?
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