Furniture wars

****ing wardrobe is ahead on points. The body is assembled and awaiting shelves and one door. I have paid in blood, bruises and astonished frustration with the bloody door hinges. What sadistic bastard designed those?

My flat also looks like a bomb has hit it. I have no idea how I'm getting out of the door in the morning.

After all this bloody effort there'd better bloody be a magical kingdom with cute witches and turkish delight at the back of it when I've finished.