Humph. Having to work overtime. And not the fun stuff. Trauma sponging. Apparently the world is a "miserable place" and She is in a "pit of gloom and despair". Who knows why. Blah, blah, blah. Perhaps the world has run out of shoes to buy.
If I was you - oh, now there's an idea - fancy a swap? You'd get your own cushion. Actually it's Her cushion. Sort of tied accommodation. Comes with the job. It's an ok cushion. Better than a poke with a pointy stick. Sorry, where was I ... oh, yes. If I was you (nice house, big shiny car, exciting toaster, exotic foreign travel, fun friends) - rather than me (cushion, shoe box with wheels drawn on, no toaster, occasional trips to the other side of the room, Jomas) then I would stroll over to visit Mr. Buttons the giant sock monkey.
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