Letter to my family

My dearest Family,

I am writing today to formally notify you that as of this evening I am parking my fat arse on the recliner in front of the television for the next three days and I am only moving to urinate, shower or get into my freshly made bed.

{BTW, go and make my bed}

For your comfort here are a few tips:

If you are hungry, find something to eat.  If there is nothing you desire in the pantry or fridge, walk down the driveway and turn left, keep walking until you see Safeway.  Purchase food and then walk back in the opposite direction.

If you need something to wear, your clothes are in the laundry.  Probably all over the floor where you left them.  Put them in the big white thing in the corner and press the ‘start’ button.  Wear wet or dry on that funny thing that spins around in the backyard – your choice.

If there are no plates or cups left, immerse them in water and then dry them.  AMAZING ISN’T IT?  Just like new!

For your future comfort and safety I suggest you follow these simple suggestions:

RoboBoot and I require a clear path between the bathroom, the bedroom and aforementioned recliner.  So don’t drop shit on the floor.  Actually, don’t EVER drop shit on the floor.  I can’t afford a maid and neither can you.

If I ask for something, find it.  Don’t be all ‘I dunno where the straws are’ and then I go in and MOVE ONE BOX out of the way and find two packets of straws staring back at me.  I may not be able to catch you now, but I hold a grudge.  And I need a straw in my diet Pepsi Max.  With some ice.

Keep me well supplied with chocolate and coffee.  This is a no brainer.  You KNOW what I am like without my coffee, add being stuck in a chair wearing a motherfucking uncomfortable immobilising boot and completely whacked out on pain killers and you do the math.

If I call you, come immediately.  It may be an emergency like I have fallen over or need the DVD changed.

I strongly urge you to follow the directions above as this is just a taste of what will happen if I don’t rest this motherfucking ratfucksonofabitch Achillies.  You think this is bad?  If I totally snap the bastard – and if I don’t rest it and let it heal it WILL HAPPEN – I will be in plaster and a WHEELCHAIR.

That means I will not be driving your arses anywhere.  And I will need spongebaths and help to go to the toilet.

Think about that.  Horrifying isn’t it?

Now where is my chocolate?