Another morning, another couch

I wake up to the familiar sizzling sound of frying. My head pounds and my stomach gurgles. I almost drown on my own saliva. I struggle upright, my spine cracking at every move. I have a terrible crick in my neck that I try to cure by twisting my head in the other direction but succeed only in making it hurt on the opposite side.

I get up and shuffle to the kitchen. Annie is there in a fluffy pink dressing gown and matching fluffy pink slippers. She has a pan on the hob and a wooden spatula in her hand.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she says.

“Morning," I rub the sleep from my eyes. "What time is it?” I croak.

“Almost half seven. I was gonna let you have a lie-in. But I need you out. I’ve about seven hours ‘til the full moon and I’ve got so much to get done before then,” she says. “Including getting your manimal stink out of that blanket,” she adds, waving her spatula at the blanket wrapped around me.

“That’s fine. I’ve gotta go to work in a couple of hours and I should really shave and change my clothes first.”

“Breakfast first!” she declares. “Bacon and scrambled egg and toast!”

Behind her the toaster regurgitates bread, now transformed, crisped and burned black, back to the world.

“No beans though. All gone. Laurel loves beans. Don't you, hun?"

Laurel remains silent and glares at me from her chair in the corner.

"Morning, Laurel," I say but elicit no response.

"Ignore her," says Annie. "She's in a mood." She dishes out a couple of rashers of crispy bacon and a large spoonful of eggs onto a plate and hands it to me. "Enjoy!"

Fed and happy, with a large, new crystal sitting in my jacket pocket, I strike out into the grey and dreary Thursday waiting for me outside.