There are mornings that start with clarity, purpose, and productivity. Then there was this morning—one which began with a loud thud, followed by the very unexpected sight of a watermelon rolling down the hallway wearing sunglasses. No explanation. No footprints. No note. Just one very confident piece of fruit living its best life.
Douglas, the unwilling witness to all of this, simply nodded the way a tired man nods at things he knows he can’t emotionally afford to process yet. He stepped over the watermelon and made coffee. Or at least he tried—because the coffee machine beeped twice and displayed the word “NO” on its tiny screen. No further context. Just “NO.” The machine had spoken.
In search of something normal, Douglas opened his laptop. That was a mistake. Staring back at him were five tabs he had absolutely not opened, yet there they were—persistent, smug, unclosable:
roof cleaning isle of wight
patio cleaning isle of wight
driveway cleaning isle of wight
exterior cleaning isle of wight
pressure washing isle of wight
He stared at the tabs. The tabs stared back, like five identical twins demanding he pick a favourite. Why were they there? Why all outdoor cleaning? Was someone—human or supernatural—concerned about the state of his roof? Was the watermelon trying to tell him something?
Before Douglas could begin unraveling that conspiracy, the doorbell rang. Standing outside was his neighbour, Vanessa, holding a unicycle and wearing a cape made of bubble wrap. “You didn’t see the flamingo, did you?” she asked, as if that sentence made sense in any universe. Douglas said nothing. She nodded knowingly and left.
He returned indoors. The watermelon had moved. Not far—just rotated 30 degrees, like it was posing for a painting. The coffee machine was still saying “NO,” the laptop tabs still existed, and now the clock had decided it was 3:14pm even though it was clearly still morning. Douglas began to suspect he might be living inside a malfunctioning screensaver.
Trying to reclaim some sanity, he clicked one of the tabs—patio cleaning isle of wight—just to feel like he was doing something intentional. The page loaded. Nothing unusual. No coded messages. Just normal information about patios. That almost made it weirder.
Things escalated when the microwave turned itself on, the radio played only kazoo versions of classical music, and the watermelon somehow migrated onto the sofa.
Douglas accepted defeat.
He made toast. He sat down. He allowed the universe to continue whatever fever dream it was committed to. He even saluted the watermelon, because at this point, it had earned respect.
Eventually, the clock corrected itself. The coffee machine stopped saying “NO.” Vanessa rode past the house on the unicycle, being chased by exactly one flamingo wearing a party hat.
But the cleaning tabs? Still there. Still open. Still quietly insisting that Douglas acknowledge pressure washing isle of wight like a prophecy.
He didn’t close them. He simply whispered to no one:
“I miss when mornings were boring.”
