Taking my own advice: a writing exercise

I need to warm up a little before writing chapter four in Sexton Retribution. It's been a couple of days since I wrote the last chapter.

Let's see... Nah. Let's not see.

He got out of the car and frowned at the dark house. Tripped on the third step on his way to the porch. Drizzle, cold drizzle fogged his glasses and didn't help him see. He wished he left the light on, but it was still sunny when he went to work.

  Three jabs at the doorknob with his key finally resulted in success. He twisted the door open and walked onto the porch, reaching for the light switch with his left hand.

   Stepped on something soft, greeted by a his and a yowl that would've made a hellhound cringe. Both he, and the cat he just stepped on, cussed out loud.

Hmmm. Well... Now that I have bad writing out of my system (please, o' Ralph the Muse, let it be so), I think it's time to get serious and put good stuff in the next installment of the Sexton Chronicles.