Welcome to my world. I know all two of you are “desperate” to read my Shetland 2023 write up but tonight there’s more pressing information. Today, I washed my bedding. Now, as a very sensible man that lives on his own sort of, I have two, maybe three different changes of bedding, one or two ready to go on, the other can just fuck off into the washing machine and get fucking washed in fucking non-bio fucking wash powder until the fucker is clean, at this stage I’ll take the fucker out of the fucking washing machine and dry the bastard.
I realise at this point, I’ve got a little over excited and, perhaps, angry for some reason regarding the washing of said bedding.
So, it was a long day, the bedding was washing itself at home. The clean bedding hiding in the second draw down like a duvet set realising just what fate it awaited. Being a long day, I decided to get blathered. On a Tuesday. Just as a release, obviously.
Work finally finished, I tackled medial tasks like the bedding. Not hard.
Ground sheet, and that is the campers term for it not mine, went straight on. Elasticated, self-embracing bottom sheet, straight on. This is easy. Pillows, fuck off. Straight on. No bother.
Quilt. And I’m a master of quiltery I can tell you. Until now.
Naked quilt, quilt cover. Sort it. So I did the required stuff. Set it all out and started stuffing the quilt into said quilt cover. I then realised the quilt cover was inside out. Start again. But then, some of it was inside out and the other not. Does that make sense?
So, here’s the crux. Because something so trivial was boxing my tiny mind, I decided to embrace it every time it went wrong by having a livener and a beer just to do my own head in. This isn’t normal and needs to be addressed. I realise this. But it became a game. Right then, this is easy, but then I got it wrong again. The quilt BASTARD was sideways. Start again. Have another livener because it’s now good fun for this simple thing to be beating a simpleton on a Tuesday. The more I went wrong, the more I wanted to go wrong just for comedy value in my own tiny mind.
Some of it was really inside-out but some of it, erm, the right way ‘round. What’s going on? Livener.
Press studs. Sort of. So I sealed the quilt with the press buttons at the bottom. By the end, there were two spare male parts and no female parts. A common trait on most Fridays for some.
I aren’t having this. The fucking buttons are fucked. Why haven’t the buttons lined up? Right, because it’s doing my nut in again, I’ll have a livener just to do my nut in even more! I’m liking it. The more it goes wrong the more I’m liking it baffling me.
So I undid the buttons-type-press studs type things.
“Right, get your head on” thought Mark, now writing in the third person.
I tried to start again. But now it had done my head in, in an amusing way, I had to carry on ENJOYING the total fuckwittery that I’d succumbed to over the last c.45 minutes. If I fuck up again it will be funny.
Another livener, I’m now off my fucking head putting a quilt cover on on a Tuesday night and enjoying the fact that something so simple is becoming so difficult! Embrace it.
The next attempt, the quilt (or the quilt cover) were again at ninety degrees to each other. This wasn’t my fault, it was merely either:
a) The quilts fault; or
b) The quilt covers fault.
After ORDERING “them” to get into alignment, I stood there for at least 80 minutes, had another livener and decided to align these inanimate objects myself.
To no avail yet again.
The quilt had, by now, jumped out of the window (if some person absolutely off their nut had felicitated this, I am not sure) leaving the quilt cover to fend for itself.
I shouted “Don’t leave me” to no one in particular, and no one answered.
I’m now freezing with no quilt (it’s fucked off).
I’m so desperately sad.
Fin.
