DIY, DIY, you really make me want to cry, I’d do it myself if I was so inclined but I know you want to take my mind. Filling in and rubbing down, my face contorts, you make me frown. The scratching, the scraping driving me insane, sucking dust into my brain, suffering pain, the anger burns like acid rain. I find the strength to carry on sanding, but as I do, the room starts expanding, mocking me, laughing and poking fun, “You are NEVER going to get this done!” So I find a space under the window sill, I know now I have lost my will, my hand finding the electric drill, up to my temple, held very still, I smile a smile of the mentally ill and CLICK……………SHIT! I knew I should have paid that bill.