I'm ever so glad that it's cooled off and can't wait for Sunday to arrive for it'll be then that I can bring my recliner and beach umbrella back into the hangar from where I've been using them next to our mailbox whilst awaiting a never-to-be-seen UPS delivery van bearing an almost forgotten novel proof.
I fear, alas, that my time has been ill-spent and have run out of wine and booze twice already while watching the grass grow and the ice cubes in my drink melt. What a bummer.
My consolation is that passersby have brought me sandwiches and refreshed my heady elixir from time-to-time as they prattle on about their drab little retired lives. I've learned all about the plethora of deaths that have occurred to their loved ones and this always cheers me up.
If you have any news or tales of piss-sorry excuses the printer may have related to you, please drop me a snailmail note and this will give me something to look forward to. I always enjoy rapping with our postman and like to kid him about his cancer prognosis.
Much love from the Lear family.
Ever thine,
Bilious Bill
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