Why do I have yet another cold? Because I am surrounded by a magical aura that acts as a beacon to every common cold virus within a fifty-mile radius.
Why is my bank account three-hundred-and-odd quid down? Because I haven't been paid this week. Why? This one's still a mystery.
Why can't I get hold of someone at my union to discuss my (non-)entitlement to sick pay after my operation? Because if I'm not at work I'm with a three-year-old who won't let me have a conversation on the phone without demanding the phone off me and making so much noise I can't hear the other person.
Why did I have to have a rather pathetic one-egg omelette, without cheese, for breakfast? Because I haven't had time to go to the shop to buy bread for toast, or enough milk for porridge, or cheese, or more eggs.
Why have I been stuffing myself full of chocolate? Because I'm a wee bit stressed, and tired, and run down.
Why can't I move in my dining room? Because there's a play tent in the middle of it.
Why did little man get up at 4am? Another mystery.
Why am I typing with one hand? Because the other one is in a cardboard box boat.
Why has the hole in the road outside my house still not been Tarmac-ed over after nine days? Who knows?
Why am I failing to see the funny side? Er...
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