Free postcards vs Defrosting the freezer

GOOD THING: FREE POSTCARDS
I don't know when it begun, but for as long as I can remember (well, for at least eight years) I have been collecting free postcards. I don't know why I started doing it, or even what I'm going to do with the now-vast collection I have stashed in a box in the wardrobe. I think perhaps it has become an obsessive habit, or reflects an obsessive personality and a desire to 'collect'. I've got postcards from cinemas, cafes, theatres, gigs and all kinds of more bizarre places, and a sizeable chunk have been collected from other countries. On the odd occasion when I get the box down, I can't actually remember half of them. When I was at university, living in nasty student accommodation with vast beige walls, the postcards came in very handy - I had several hundred of them stuck to the walls with an industrial quantity of blu-tack, which had the effect of startling anyone who came in to see me. But then I came home, and my parents wouldn't have appreciated my DIY decor; likewise my flatmate afterwards, and then my fiance. So now they just get collected and stashed in a box (the postcards, not my flatmate and fiance) - but I convince myself that one day a brilliant idea will strike me and I will be glad that I spent most of my adult life collecting the buggers. If anyone has any suggestions, answers on a postcard...

BAD THING: DEFROSTING THE FREEZER

Okay, I'll admit it straight off - in the eleven months I've been living in our current flat, I haven't defrosted the freezer once (mind you, neither has Mark.) I'd thought about it a lot - even vocalised those thoughts - and poked inquisitively at the growing ice-cap above the ice-cube drawer. But when it came to a month before we're moving out, and I remembered that regular defrosting of the freezer was part of our contract, I realised I couldn't procrastinate any longer. And thanks to my laziness, the chore took the best part of the day. I started by taking everything out, shoving it all into thermal bags, and then turning off the freezer. And nothing happened. The glacier was just too vast. So I put bowl after bowl of boiling water on the shelf, but the drip-drip effect was about as brisk as the growth of stalactites in an underground cave. At one point I thought I should film the whole thing, send the tape to the BBC and have David Attenborough provide a commentary. He would have especially liked the part where I stupidly tried using my hairdrier on it, which, in hindsight, probably could have killed me - in fact, it just fused the hairdrier temporarily. In the end, I just had to be patient, and return to the kitchen every twenty minutes to chip at large slabs of ice with a wooden spatula. What a serious waste of a day. And what's more, the ice cream didn't survive too well in the thermal bags - in fact, the Skinny Cows are likely to re-form in very strange and unappealing shapes.