Twelve hours

[desperance]

...And furthermore, it is an utterly lovely day out there and in any reasonable dispensation I should be sitting in the sunshine with this glass of gin and that book over there. If I'm not working, I could at least be enjoying myself. But of course I worry that if I'm in the garden back yard I'll miss the front door, and the van will drive off with my package. So I lurk within door and blink out at the sun and don't get the benefit. Sob.

Twelve bloody hours. How long does it take, for cryin' out loud?