Grrrr... The room check nazis just got on me for some dust in the corner of my shower. Argh! Reason #5137 I need to get out of this place. Which incidentally is not going to happen if I spend all day scrubbing the damn room with a toothbrush. I'm only still here today because I'm doing laundry. And the shower IS clean tyvm. I'm just not obsessive about it. I save that for therapy... Now feck off with yourself, nitpicking housekeeping lady... grumble grumble grumble...
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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