(no subject)
May. 11th, 2008 03:10 amThe last slice of bread in the house. The last little bit of peanut butter. Me, hungry. Barren cupboards. It's this or half a purple onion. I make the half a sandwich. Hm, smells good.
The housemate's big brown dog jumps up on me, to try and steal my sandwich. Repeatedly. Oy with the jumping. I set my sandwich down on the desk and forcibly eject the very bad dog from my room.
...and the housemate's little chihuahua sneaks up behind me, jumps up on the desk, gobbles the sandwich in three big gulps and runs like hell.
When you're 25 it's all bohemian and cute. When you're 39, it's a cautionary tale for others.
The Michael Powell marathon on TCM was some comfort. As are these Rudolf Valentino silents they're showing all morning. Fun.
The housemate's big brown dog jumps up on me, to try and steal my sandwich. Repeatedly. Oy with the jumping. I set my sandwich down on the desk and forcibly eject the very bad dog from my room.
...and the housemate's little chihuahua sneaks up behind me, jumps up on the desk, gobbles the sandwich in three big gulps and runs like hell.
When you're 25 it's all bohemian and cute. When you're 39, it's a cautionary tale for others.
The Michael Powell marathon on TCM was some comfort. As are these Rudolf Valentino silents they're showing all morning. Fun.