The Internet’s Flooded.

It’s been raining since 6am necessitating me and Britney to remain in bed till 11. And now at 11.30 after 15 minutes of trying to get the little bar chart to lose its exclamation mark my pop3 server has not responded and do I want to wait? Obviously the internet has been flooded. I know this because it was the first answer that came to mind. Am I to be marooned on the desert island of my own vicinity? This realisation assumes biblical proportions. My aunty in Kurdistan, ebay’s amazing deals, Amazon’s quick deliveries, the stock levels of my local Screwfix, all unavailable to me. Ironically I very very slowly get an ad for Dryrod Damp Proofing Rods- 10 pack- £27.00 by Safeguard Europe Ltd. Well it’s a bit bloody late now, and no use to me seeing as our local DIY shop has probably never heard of them. The realisations keep flooding in. No Facebook to keep abreast of cat fails, no YouTube or Vivo vids, no Wikipedia to find scant knowledge of everything. And no internet banking, so as our local branches have closed that’s a five-hour walk to the town centre. I’m beginning to hyperventilate. But then in the midst of this gloom I begin to see a Disney silver lining lighting the sky from the east. Pictures of my old life back, people chatting in shops, promenading down sunny streets listening to brass bands or, feeling no implanted impulsive need for a wider television, having the time to learn piano. And as this glorious outcome reaches its crescendo emails begin to flood in again. It’s all been a dream. The internet is back on, hooray I’m saved! I’ve regained my foothold on that old familiar treadmill. So where was I. Ah yes, John Lewis have a new range of swan feather pillows from Indonesia, motorcycle boots that will protect your lower leg in the event of a crash providing a perfect transplant for some other unfortunate, Julian and Nigel are pictured drinking in Costa del Sol, elephants can hear a thunderstorm from 500 miles away, cats do make trajectory mistakes while dogs work on sympathy, and my bank is advertising it will give me back a small percentage of what it’s already taken if I shop at Waitrose. And now it’s 1.20pm, my arse is sore and I haven’t done a bloody thing.