Living as I do, surrounded by the technological and societal advantages of the twenty first century, it might be hard for anybody to comprehend the frustrations this luxurious lifestyle can bestow on a person. Some things do get on my tits though, probably because I don’t occupy a high enough position in this society to have somebody do things for me, i.e. I’m lazy.

I have an automatic washing machine, a tumble dryer and a dishwasher. They’re all labour-saving devices, but you still have to operate the things, then empty them, then put stuff away, or iron it. The summer weather brings its own disadvantages because you’re obliged to peg stuff out to dry it: four pegs for a bath sheet; three for a hand towels, tops and trousers; two for knickers; one per sock. For a load of washing, this could mean raising my arm about fifty times while coordinating the positioning of items on the line. My hands aren’s big enough to hold more than two pegs at a time and holding one in my mouth makes me gag. Awful. Then there’s the worrying about whether it’s going to rain, checking to see if it’s all dry, taking it off the line, folding it, putting it away.

Why has nobody invented disposable clothes?

As soon as I get the space, I’m going to replicate my crockery, cutlery and pans and invest in a second dishwasher. Then I’ll have one for dirty and one for clean; I’ll just be able to switch between the two without ever having to empty one and put the stuff away. Plus they never dry things properly and you always have to wipe over things with the tea towel as you put them away.

Sheesh. I seem ungrateful for this lifestyle. Should I really be bothered that I only get a 27mbps download from my broadband instead of 30? No, but it irks me. And why can’t I play Lovefilm or 4OD on my iPad through the TV? Why can’t I do that?

I clearly have too much time on my hands. Time that would be much better spent… ripping down my neighbour’s fucking wind chimes! What the hell was that at this ungodly hour??? Time that I should spend on philanthropic activities. Unfortunately for those who might benefit from such acts, my irritations only last for a matter of seconds and vanish as I hold up a shiny clean glass to the sunlight and marvel at its streak-free finish, the smile returns to my face. Oh yes, I actually do that.

My love of my dishwasher was reignited this evening as I had to wash some dishes by hand. Good grief, what a palaver. The task was even more traumatic because I had to do it in an ill-fitting washing up bowl without the benefit of washing up gloves. How do people even live like this?