The Foetal Position Actually Gets Quite Uncomfortable After A While

I am writing this while sat under my desk. Why? The window cleaner is here, that's why. I didn't know the window cleaner worked on a Sunday. I think that maybe he doesn't, and is only here to surprise and frighten me. Or maybe he's here because of Thursday's freak wind, which was reported on the news as being of near hurricane proportions, but actually just knocked a few plant pots over and covered everyones' windows in dust. Thinking about it, the dust is probably the reason he's here. I doubt he got up this morning and thought, "You know what? I'm going to go to Emily's house and freak her out. Turning up on a Sunday will really shit her up!".


Anyway, the window cleaner is here, and the dust has apparently permanently bonded to my window, because he's been scrubbing away for ages. I'm still cowering under my desk because there's nothing more uncomfortable than attempting to go about your business while a whistling Shaggy lookalike stares at you. He may have seen me. I'm trying to move as little as possible, but we may have made brief eye-contact. He probably thinks I'm insane now, he'll probably tell my Dad when he comes round in a few days to get paid. Then I'll be forever remembered as the weirdo who hides from the window cleaner. My Dad will bring it up in years to come when he makes a speech at my wedding. If I have one that is, I mean who wants to marry a woman who spends her time lurking under desks?

Erm, what was I talking about? Oh right, I'm still under the desk. Even though the window cleaner has moved on to another window, I'm still here. It's sort of comfortable actually. There's probably some sort of psychological reason behind it, like it subconsciously reminds you of being in the womb, only it's carpeted.

I should probably get out from under the desk now.

The Foetal Position Actually Gets Quite Uncomfortable After A While