You what I hate? Coming home from an evening out, somewhere that's smokers roam. I come back reeking of cigarette smoke. But that's not really what I hate. What I hate is to come home and discover that I have forgotten to turn on the electric water heater.
And now I have to sit here, reeking, until the water will be hot enough to shower.
I can feel the cigarette smoke on my cloths, in my hair, on my skin. It's a part of any decent pub or pool hall (which happens to be where I'm coming from), so I'm not complaining. If I wanted to avoid the smoke I'd find somewhere else to be. It's just that I keep forgetting to turn on the friggin' water heater! And because of that I have to pass the time in my smelliness, until the water is ready!
Doesn't that just stink! Yes, it does.
SPAM MAIL UPDATE:
I got one that says: "Wanna get back in those jeans." It suddenly reminded me of a pair of jeans I'd like to get back into, but the girl decided it would be best if we didn't see each other any more...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment