What To Write?

Will I write tonight?  I am unsure.  As an author, it is important to do a little every day, or as often as possible.  The problem is, I have no idea what to write about this evening.  My day has been consumed with the application of Murphy's Law in just about every little thing I did.  What was going to be a simple work day went awry with hastily added medication jobs, and rushing around.  Taking a pensioner shopping was like navigating a mine field of fucking idiots.  They either jay-walked in front of my car, or else blundered along like blind moles in the darkness as they were held in the thrall of their telephone, reading from their screens and/or texting as they made their uncertain way around the shopping centre, bouncing and ricocheting like Ping-Pong balls as they studied their phones.  I cannot say this often enough: Will you cretins who insist upon looking at your phones please get out of everybody's way and stop ploughing into people?  What the fuck is so important that you have to be reading your phone all the time?  I will type this slowly for everyone: It. Can. Wait. Until. You're. Out. Of. The. Way. You. Are. Not. That. Important.

My fiendish day ended with a wild goose chase regarding insurance on the vehicle Mr Bingells drives.  I'm exhausted and miserable, and really should get to bed.  I haven't bothered tidying the kitchen because, seriously, I want to play on the computer.

The only good thing about the day has been my discovery the Violent Femmes are to tour.  I could totally cope with seeing them.  I've got 'Blister In The Sun' in my head now, and am dumbfounded to realise it goes back as far as 1983.  I do not remember this choice little number from my final school year.  Could it be because the radio station in the country area where I grew up did not play the Violent Femmes?  Were they considered too controversial?  I wish so much they had been played on the radio, instead of what I was subjected to back then, being dross like Wham (I know, they're not THAT bad), Hayzee Fantayzee (now they ARE that bad, and a whole lot more!), Culture Club (whose songs mainly fellated the foreskin away from a bull elephant's dick; one of their very few tolerable numbers was 'Church Of The Poisoned Mind' and that was only because it had the amazing Helen Terry singing on it), Paul Young ('Ladies and gentlemen, this train is about to pull in to Bland City'), Fat Larry's Band (eeeeyeeeewwww!), et al.  I might have enjoyed doing my homework a little more had I had some Violent Femmes to listen to, rather than that lot.