I like a drink, and I always have. The problem is what comes the following day.
I just don’t see the point of making the bed after I get up. The Sisyphean aspects of the pointless task do not worry me; such is the nature of our miserable human existence.
Floorboards creaked underfoot as I made my way back through the house. I had never been in a house like this, yet it was utterly familiar in layout.
Spain is gain, or “No Spain No Gain”. It’s something like that, and it will come back to me at some point.
My mind keeps popping in the notion that this is somehow a new problem, a by-product of our new, over-connected technological age. But that’s nonsense.
It’s a common misconception that not washing hyper frequently makes a person smell, and it’s balls.
I have just bought sixteen litres of highly caffeinated “Energy Drink”. It will arrive the day after tomorrow. I got a really good deal for it, thankfully.