dayy 6 ((sorry, i have to post this now, I'm dog tired, should be veiwable after 2am))
todasy was pertrtry good liker, um, in detail well i gort up, before trhen i rtrid do do husdnbd stuff foer myy hubstand casusew hyou have rto do that aas uts part of the husban law, and rthn i masde strich some bacson ansd trhen um i went back to bed a bitr haha, and then i got up adn then there was puppy walks ansd we haad some ceraeal, puppiews really like special k, and trhen there was... a thingf but i cant remember and i playsd some fifa, and then i done some house pINTING WISHCH IS LIKE REGULAR PAINTING BUT FOR YOUER HOUSE OH LOOSK CAPS LOCK IS ON odgf off it gotes, and then i met DAN! DAAAANM AND oopds, anf we went to the pub! ha, and i had some beer, but nort too much because um because of the thing, no! he lives far from me so the walk home from his pub is far and i dirdnt want tro habve to get stick tro chum us home cause hes gotr work and nowwww shhhhhhhh, shh sh shhhhh donrt walk up stick! gort to be quitre quirtser that a little mousey mouse bahaha, im reealy sleepy and none of thes woerds make much sens :9( sadf ace.
for the attention of peter sweetner;
hello,
it's strich here. just so you know you did wake me up. was it when you fell over the coffee table? well, i think that would have done it, but no. was it when you screamed PEACHES in such joy that actual peaches down the market thought you might be talking to them? no, that wasn't it. was it when you tried, unsuccessfully, for the eight time to unlock the door before realising i'd left it on the snib for you? nope, not then either.
it was when you were almost at the front door, down stairs at street level, singing zombies by the cranberries at the top of your lungs.
you've fallen asleep on the couch, upside down, with your face in your laptop- but not on the keyboard so that detailed re-imagining of your day is still with us, thank god, so im posting it for you as i know you'd want, and then im going to carry you through to the bedroom and put you to bed- because i fucking love you, you messy, drunken tax dodger. please be fully aware that this weekend i will be taking full advantage that you owe me a nice quiet hangover and you will have to do everything i ask of you, up to and including husdnbd stuff.
your loving hubstand,
stick.
for the attention of peter sweetner;
hello,
it's strich here. just so you know you did wake me up. was it when you fell over the coffee table? well, i think that would have done it, but no. was it when you screamed PEACHES in such joy that actual peaches down the market thought you might be talking to them? no, that wasn't it. was it when you tried, unsuccessfully, for the eight time to unlock the door before realising i'd left it on the snib for you? nope, not then either.
it was when you were almost at the front door, down stairs at street level, singing zombies by the cranberries at the top of your lungs.
you've fallen asleep on the couch, upside down, with your face in your laptop- but not on the keyboard so that detailed re-imagining of your day is still with us, thank god, so im posting it for you as i know you'd want, and then im going to carry you through to the bedroom and put you to bed- because i fucking love you, you messy, drunken tax dodger. please be fully aware that this weekend i will be taking full advantage that you owe me a nice quiet hangover and you will have to do everything i ask of you, up to and including husdnbd stuff.
your loving hubstand,
stick.