PTSD, Pork Pies and Pickled Onions.

Remember I have PTSD and I take quite a lot of medication....are you sitting comfortably....good, then I'll begin.

I thought I'd have a couple of Pork pies with some Pickled Onions for scoff, simple to prepare. I like simple.
So out come the 2 pork pies and I get the pickled onions out, all onto a plate.
The pork pie packet goes in the bin and then I see the pickled onion jar, bugger the PTSD kicks in, OK the jar goes in a cupboard ? but which one, mutiple choice loads of cupboards in the kitchen so I stand there trying to work out which bloody cupboard they go in, it takes me about 5 minutes to chose a possible cupboard so I pick up the jar and instantly feel the coldness and realise it doesn't go in a cupboard but goes in the fridge.....
Bugger, bugger whats a fridge and even if I knew what a fridge was where is it ? look round kitchen see 2 appliances marked Bosch, that rings a bell. Easy peasy one of them is a fridge and I picked the right one first time, fuck bugger shit where in the fridge does the sodding jar go, anyway after much farting about the jar is in the door closed, it's only taken about 20 minutes to do this.
Mind you it's all a bit moot because I turn round and discover the fucking dog has eaten the pork pies and pickled onions. Annoyingly the dog wasn't sick later on....

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