I love my family. In quarantine I frequently find myself desperately wanting to get away from them. Wait, is what we’re doing still called quarantine? Currently I’ve escaped to our basement. There’s a man from Orkin (pest control) down here, and it’s small and cramped, and he’s just standing there not doing anything which is really awkward because he has an uncomfortable mustache (well, it’s likely silky and smooth and very comfortable to him, but it makes me feel weird), deep blue eyes, and I’m pretty sure he should be wiggling through our crawlspace checking for varmints instead of just standing there eating Cheetos (but expertly keeping the phosphorescent orange cheez powder off his silky white moustache like all facial hair aficionados are apt to do). Maybe it’s his lunch break. I wonder if he washes his hands a lot, or maybe pest control experts are apathetic towards the fact they’re covered in disease and industrial poisons between 8 a.m. – 5 p.m. so they just munch away.
I dated Denis Morton for a while in 3rd grade - he was chiseled then! Not only do I share your views on the dangers of big houses and suburbia, I am getting slightly more chiseled abs from laughing at your writing. Good stuff!
I dated Denis Morton for a while in 3rd grade - he was chiseled then! Not only do I share your views on the dangers of big houses and suburbia, I am getting slightly more chiseled abs from laughing at your writing. Good stuff!
Thank you so much! Too crazy about Denis. He is an inspiration!