Fridge/bus mentalist

An excerpt from an email which I enjoyed writing:

Well I've been off work, and I have to say, having fun. However, I suffer from a crippling deficiency of motivation and this plagues my time off. So other than socialising, going to Tesco, drinking more than the government prescribes, scratching my arse, the odd gym visit and pondering long and hard about my return to stand-up, I've achieved very little. I did do a wee bit of DIY the other day. You see I've been 'doing up' my hall and living room for about a year now, with small and tiring bursts of activity and long periods of inactivity, longing for the 'magical DIY fairy' to visit during the night and finish it. I've pulled out 5 of my teeth and placed them all under my pillow (one at a time of course, I'm not daft), but that fairy never comes. I noticed the other day that the house 2 doors down has nice new living room decor and curtains, maybe just another 2 teeth and the fairy will make it here. Of course the re-constructive surgery will be more expensive than just getting a painter and decorator in to do it, but I'm a man and will never admit defeat. Unless defeated by a fairy of course. This is one of my great failings, being a man.

I haven't been sleeping well, because of my fridge and nightmares. My fridge was making a horrendous noise, today I ripped that mother-fucker apart and found the source of noise that was keeping me up nights. I had to force defrost a frost-free freezer (LIES damn LIES). I have diagnosed a new defrost cycle timer is required, cost £20, better than a new fridge-freezer, cost £350. I will feel very smug when that tall white bastard starts acting like the 2 year old it is, then I will sleep easy. It ruined 3 haggis today, the fucking Japanese bastard.

The nightmares are mainly the usual: unable to get upstairs on a double decker bus due the poorly thought out design and anti-tall-people devices fitted in the future and then abusing a tramp loudly about not moving seat. Then being chased through a high st shopping centre by an angry bus-rage fuelled mob, who plainly couldn't see my point. I think some of them have pitch forks, that should be reserved for vampires and aliens, not the Scottish.

Maybe I have issues, with white goods and public transport. Maybe a I should go for some counselling. Or a new mattress, that might do it.

Mick, fridge/bus mentalist.