034.
My P.O. box! It LIVES! I can get mail and everything. And now I get to sit under a light that shines like a prosthetic summertime, which makes me feel rather like a certain Robin McKinley protagonist. The real sun is setting early now, and the sky is striped in pale hues of blue and gray and gold outside my window, the colors broken into long rectangles by my open blinds.
This looks like it might be the best cheesy romance novel ever written.
Today my sister said, w/r/t a new lighter: "I cannot get the safety bit off this thing! It's impossible; you have to, like, get something to use as a lever and jack it off super-hard...oh. Oh, crap. That's not what I meant."
This looks like it might be the best cheesy romance novel ever written.
Today my sister said, w/r/t a new lighter: "I cannot get the safety bit off this thing! It's impossible; you have to, like, get something to use as a lever and jack it off super-hard...oh. Oh, crap. That's not what I meant."