Caveman has plenty of questions, not many answers
Why is it that every time I go to open the little water cup on an airplane, it spills on me when I pop the pressure seal?
Why is it that each time I go to the bathroom, it seems the toilet roll is on its last sheet?
Why is it that the one day I have a rocking hangover, the bloody neighbour decided it's time to unleash hell (his dogs) or start whipper-snipping?
Why is it that the first time I head out to Kings Cross in years, the little handle thing on the fly of my zip decides to snap as we're heading out the door?
Have I done something wrong in a past life?
Did I punch a small child, steal from a busker or look a gift horse in the mouth?
I don't know - but I'm constantly amazed at the minute little battles we have in everyday life.
Ever find yourself swearing at that one mosquito or fly that buzzes around?
Like, I mean getting personally abusive towards him, cursing him, his mother and every other fly brother or sister they may have?
It seems like when you're having a bad day - or the week from hell as I am having - the little things seem to pile against us.
Isn't it grand?
I have to laugh at the way it happens!
We're at our wit's end, ready to punch holes in things, when life just tests you that once more.
The freezer door you opened looking for ice for that scotch was supporting the frozen peas, which are now all over the damned floor.
I've learnt that it's not the peas' fault. Peas are nice. No, it was me - the idiot, who stacked them there in the first place, and I should laugh at myself for the state I worked myself up in over it.
So what do you do?
Well, I've always been resourceful.
So, I suggest dropping the peas into the scotch as a substitute for ice - it's frozen and nutritious and, if poured correctly, you should forget how the peas got there by the end of the first glass.