When I’m cleaning windows

My former sidekick, a bloke with whom I worked on-and-off — but he was mostly off — for the best part of a decade, called me on Monday morning. He enquired as to how and what I was doing. I replied that I was still spiralling helplessly around my own private vortex of despair and my days were still stuffed with turd-polishing, sexual reverie and sub-tabular self-interference.