I Think My Shower is Bipolar.
I Think My Shower is Bipolar.
I had a bit of a brain wave for an idea today, which may seem a little left field. Personification of an object can seem a bit odd, but it can add a quirky twist.
After some deliberation, I have finally decided to speak my mind. I have been swaying between two frames of thought, as I did not wish to offend you; but I think enough time has passed that we can speak openly and honestly.
I moved into my place a few months ago, and I have to say it was both a daunting and exciting experience. I have my freedom; but with it came the anxiety – will I survive? Can I pay all my bills, will I be able to cook nutritious food that doesn’t leave me worshiping the porcelain god and will I be able to fill the nights with excitement and entertainment – without turning to the drink? I am happy to say that I have been able to achieve all of these and am quite happy in
what I have achieved.
However, even as exciting as this all is, I can’t say it hasn’t been without some trepidation. Leaving my family home of twenty-four years was hard – moving out all of my belongings, saying goodbye to my favourite chair and ensuring I scored as much free stuff as I could carry. It’s a lot quieter here without the rest of the family buzzing around; which does allow me to work on my projects more, but at times it can be a bit too quiet.
I have taken the good, bad and odd in my stride, and so far I am faring rather well. However, there is something that I wish to discuss with you. It wasn’t so bad to begin with, but now it’s just something I can no longer ignore.
I wish to ask, are you okay? It seems that as time has gone on, we have begun to drift. Initially everything was fine – I would turn the cold and hot taps and would be greeted by a strong, soothing and warm spray of water.
However, as of late I have noticed that your behaviour has become extremely erratic. After the greeting burst of warm water, you give me the cold shoulder. Then, after some persuasion, all seems okay. But alas, you burst out in fury – spewing hot lava all down my shoulders and back; forcing me to choose between smashing myself against cold tiles or impaling myself on your glass walls. After some more negotiation which seems to take an eternity, we finally come to a compromise.
I initially thought that I had done something to offend you, but after you displayed the same brazen disregard towards Georgia, I was puzzled. Surely she couldn’t have done anything to upset you as she is amazing and would never have done anything to hurt you. After hearing angry slurs echoing off the tiles over the weekend, I thought it was time to address and resolve this situation.
Your behaviour is unacceptable and unwarranted. It makes me question – are you bipolar? Your change in mood is unpredictable and complicated, there is no way for me to guess what I’m going to encounter when I come to visit each evening. If it does not improve, I’m afraid that we will have to part ways. I don’t think there is any room for mediation – I spent almost five minutes today trying to work out your mood, and in the process was burnt – twice.
Hopefully this letter has cleared the air and we can return to a civil arrangement.
writing, my writing