Me and my big mouth

Oooooeeeerrrrr, that's REALLY torn it!

As I was getting ready to come out to the library this morning, those wretched bloody vampires upstairs decided to engage in their sex life again.

Because my mood has not improved appreciably since I spoke to you yesterday, my irritation and envy mounted to the point where I started bouncing up and down on my own bed, whilst shouting: "How do YOU like it, you bastards?"

Unfortunately, my bum, despite its newly decreased size, has lost none of its vigour or power.

CRACK!

went the woodwork, whereupon my posterior and I promptly vanished down a chasm that had opened up in the middle of the bed.

Luckily, I did manage to retrieve myself in time to leave the house, if not my dignity. To remove the finer of the splinters from my buttocks, I was forced to resort to my eyebrow tweezers.

Now I'll have to phone the sodding landlords to put in a request for a new bed.

They must be sick to the teeth of me in their office. I'm ALWAYS on the phone complaining about SOMETHING. If it's not me, then it's my flatmate.

Yeah, yeah, I know this slight accident gives me the perfect opportunity to get behind the bed with the vacuum cleaner for a thorough, deep-down root-out, but you must remember that, unlike most of my former colleagues in Macclesfield, I'm not exactly the sort of woman to feel deeply fulfilled by housework and spring cleaning of any description.

Probably why I try to do as little of it as I possibly can get away with.

Plus I'm not exactly overjoyed at the prospect of having to move the lamp, bedside chest, all those books and toiletries out into the hall, so that we have enough room to manoeuvre the new bed.

Last time this happened, the landlord's workmen dumped the new bed in the sitting room. We then had to remove the plastic wrappings ourselves and push the bed into my boudoir.

Before we could do that, the late puss decided she wanted to test the new bed out by kipping on it!