raison d’être

We all get tired now and again, I know that, but that's no reason to let standards slip, look, I get home last night after a particularly unpleasant 2 hour crawl home, via Archway, and I'm starvn' marvn' right, tired and wound right up, like a spring see...and I step into the living room which looks like a bomb's hit it...toys everywhere, bit's of food all over the carpet and the missus sprawled out on the sofa, half comatosed, watching Neighbours....I'll put yir dinner on after this, she says...right I say...stepping carefully over an assortment of raisons scattered all over the floor...Look love, I've said this before, don't give the smasher a bowl of raisons like that, you know he only throws half of them over the floor, give them to him one at a time....and I stoop down and pick one off the new rug and was just about to pop it into my mouth...funny, squishy feeling I think, as I balled it into shape, this isn't right....sniff...FUCKING HELL!!!...Oi, there's poo on the floor here!! Jesus Christ!!...I scream and run into the toilet to flush the pebble away and scrub my hands...half hearing the missus mumble something about, oh yeah, I just changed him, musta missed a bit of flying poo...sorry...
I tell ya, some days....some bloody days...