There's nothing quite like...

Being awoken by a semi-hysterical woman.

(Especially when you're right in the middle of a very nice dream involving three brunettes, an industrial tub of KY jelly, several dildos and 23 tubs of Hagen Dazs. But lets not get into that right now. I think that the memory of the dream may be too much for me to handle and I'll start to cry.)

And, there's nothing quite like being awoken by a hysterical woman who announces that you're flooding their Mothers house. (At a rate comparable to the rushing waters experienced by passengers on the RMS Titanic, if her tone of voice was to be believed.)

Which is exactly what happened to me this very morning.

As Little Miss Mayhem stood on my doorstep I made a beeline for the cupboard at the end of the hall. I opened it to find myself being sprayed in the face by a small stream of water. "No biggie." I thought, as I made my way to the phone to call for a plumber. As I explained the situation to the person on the other end of the phoneline, I lit a cigarette, took a large gulp at the cup of coffee that had been abandoned at 6am, turned around and almost stood on a small child.

"Holy fuck!" I said, startled. "Whose? What? Excuse me, is this thing yours?" I shouted in the direction of my hallway. When Little Miss Mayhem popped her head around the door of my livingroom, I pointed at the child. "What's that?" I asked.

"My son." Answered the woman.

"Can you please get your rug-rat out of my livingroom, this isn't the fucking play-area at McDonald's." I snapped. Which, I'm guessing, means I'll not be getting a Christmas card from her this year. Oh well, that's one less to throw into the bucket the second after I receive it.