Murder’s in the air.
For now, it’s just passive-aggressive notes though.reblog
Baking bread, it smells divine, and then she decides to sleep on my chest/stomach, because that’s obviously the most comfortable place to sleep on for a fluffy cat. Of course.
Also, sorting out my shiny new mac baby bought with my own money. Feeling like such an adult.
Sunday morning, good morning.2 reblog
than write this essay I’m trying to write right here.2 reblog
I have mother of all headaches, so of course I’m feeling philosophical.
Everyone, at some point in their life, will either lose or leave something on a train by accident. And, as long as it’s not something particularly pricey, they will accept that once the doors closed behind them, the item became lost forever. It may, however, return to them in its other incarnation, so to speak.
I seem to have a thing with umbrellas. When I first came here almost six years ago, the weather conditions forced me to eventually purchase an umbrella. And what a fine umbrella it was. Polka-dotted, perfect size to carry around, but sturdy enough for unforgiving gusts of wind. It lasted in mint condition for longer than any umbrella I’d ever had. But then, one day, I left it on a train. The replacement proved itself to be useless, lasting maybe a month before it became unusable. Then another one. And another. And then, I started finding umbrellas. Two majestic ones left in random places (one of which was later left and forgotten somewhere and now hopefully continues its rounds). One small umbrella which broke during the worst rainstorm I’d ever got trapped in. And last night, I found another one. On a train. We will see how long it lasts.
Does it mean anything? I don’t care. As long as it gives me shelter from the storm.1 reblog