Another morning, she came downstairs to the daily chore of moving stuff he’d left lying on the floor. Cups, newspapers, books, a jacket, his dinner plate from last night. There were also a pair of scissors and his slippers. He had gone out earlier. Leaving things lying around for her to pick up. I’m fed up with this she thought. It’s always the same. His stuff seems to be everywhere. Why won’t he do something?
Over the next few days she slowly collected things that were lying there. Soon she had six black bags of his stuff.
One morning she got up and he was asleep in the chair after a night of drinking beers. The chair was surrounded by six beer cans, a whisky bottle and several empty bottles and a glass. The snoring shook through her bones.
Enough, she thought, I will build a wall. She went into the utility room to get strong glue and a step ladder. Then she dragged in the black sacks of stuff. Starting with clothes she poured glue in a semicircle around him up to the skirting board on either side of the chair. She slowly piled glue and clothes upward using books, papers and bottles to help support it all. She had bought his fishing rod out of the bathroom and added bike wheels and garden furniture. As she worked she became more frenzied, trying to build before he woke. The glue was quick setting and she had fluff and paper sticking to her hands. She climbed the step ladder and peeked over the top. He was lying still on the chair, snoring gently……
After two hours she had completed the wall. It stood a bit askew but it reached the roof. What would he do? She pushed at the wall of material, solid. She went out into the garden to rest in the sunshine.
