Even more shattered

Now, look, I want you to look on Ebay for me and find out how much this Crested Ware figurine of a peregrine falcon attacking a hedgehog is worth. Then I want you to put it on and sell it, but don't let it go for less than £2 because I bought it for £1.50, so I've got to make my profit. I can't look for it myself because I've lost the password and I'm too stressed out to phone up for a new one. They just put you through to someone in Glasgow or Bangladesh or somewhere like that and I just can't understand what they're saying. This man the other day just kept saying, 'Go to password settings, Go to password settings,' but what's that supposed to mean? I mean, I'm looking at the screen and it doesn't say 'password settings' anywhere. There's a picture of an exercise bike, but that's all I can see. And then he goes on about drop down menus. What do I want with drop down menus? I want to know what my password is, only he won't tell me that unless I can tell him what the fourth letter of my password is, only I could have sworn that my password was 'rheumatism', but that doesn't work and neither does 'shattered', so god knows what it is. I tell you, I've had enough of this internet. It's killing me, it really is. I can't possibly blog today. No, you do it for me. Let me just sit down for a bit. Is the kettle on?