In Bed with Junk Mail

If there is one thing I truly despise, its junk mail. The invasion of my letterbox, the bright colours, the demands that I buy loads upon loads of just plain crap. The sheer inhumanity of it, I would be much happier to have a door to door salesman drop by. There's no fun in firing the shotgun at a glossy bunch of paper now is there? Oh the glossiness, thats what really gets me. So shiny, so fake, spruking their lies.

Which is why it is strange that for the last couple of weeks ive been sleeping with it. No, nothing sexual... I swear! There has simply been a pile of junk mail taking up one half of my bed. I don't know how it got there, and I have no idea why I havent just thrown it out. It stays on it's side, I stay on mine, curled up as far from it as possible, glaring at it. Why have i left it there so long?

Could it be that i secretly like it? Maybe there is a part of me that loves the pretty colours and consumable wares. The bargains... ooh the bargains... I could be a closet capitalist.

Or maybe its along the lines of 'i keep my friends close, and my enemies closer'. Thats right junk mail, i'm keeping my eye on you. A constant reminder of what I'm up against here.

Or perhaps its because i'm simply a lazy pig that never gets around to cleaning anything up, and its never occured to me to just pick it up and throw it away.

Yeah, thats it.