Putting the kettle on is not enough anymore. Even "Highland Park 12yo" doesn't help. It is getting cold and I have to turn the radiator on. Just like Dublin Bus drivers, although they tend to overheat the busses. On top of that, I am anemic and that doesn't help, since a 10 minute journey to work turns into a bloody sauna.
Haven't seen the landlord for about a month and a half and I can't wait since:
a) we do need to turn the heating on
b) I need a new bed. Not because of too much exercise performed on it. It is old - like majority of the things my landlord stuffs into his houses (cupboards, tables, pots, arm-chairs, hoovers) and way too soft - I can nearly feel the springs cutting into my back. If he is not happy with buying a new one, I am chucking out the old one and will continue sleeping on my sister's mattress. That's what I have been doing for the past few weeks. My brother-in-law describes this as self-punishment (turning into Mother Theresa?). Actually it is not - it is great for the back. And I dream every night. What about? My bed in Lithuania. Although as a matter of fact it's Danish. :-)
Labels: Irish: bad habbits
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