Sep 03, 2006 13:38
And I throw things at the microwave door from across the room because it's oen when it shouldn't be, when he says it who shouldn't, when it damn well knows better.
It doesn't work. Funny, because the kettle's actually silver.
She's been gone over an hour, and if I thought I was going to get anything done with just a little music then--well, either way, I won't get far.
Makala wrote me a letter:
"Your firamaly mits you."