My friend has her shit all over my apartment, and it's making me nuts. It's not just her coat in the hall and her diary on the kitchen table, her presence on my computer and my telephone, the hours that she keeps and the fact that she has been here for three fucking weeks—it's not, in fact, her physcial shit that is bothering me, but her psychic shit. She has job problems, boyfriend problems and housing problems (which is why she's HERE all the TIME) and I know about all of them. I no sooner start to think about something or write something than I hear her voice, top volume, saying either "They are so fucked up!" or "I am so fucked!" or "What am I going to do?" Well, I'm done giving her advice. I know what I'm going to do, try to unkink my back and have a smoke.
So that's today's reason I can't stop smoking: My friend's shit all over the place.
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This blog used to be called "Why I Can't Stop Smoking." Well, I did stop smoking. Now I need to stop drinking. The only thing is, every day there seems to be a reason why I can't just yet. It worked before, so—here goes! Today's reason
mr. and mrs. jones
About Me
- Claudia
- The sister of the President of the Garden Club, a former journalist (People, Life) and now vacation rental property manager on an island once known as Claudia's Island, Claudia has honed her bedmaking skills and seldom travels without a truckload of substandard chairs.
2 comments:
Besides, if you quit smoking, her shit would STILL be all over your house. This way, you get the pleasure of making her shit stink. Hmm.
Sis
Also, I think she may have asthma. We'll see if it clears up when she clears out.
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