martha stewart won't recommend showering with your house painting supplies, but i can't say enough about one-stop cleaning. my eye's a bit yellow from 'shampoo for me, shampoo for sponge roller', but god gave me tear ducts for a reason, and now i don't have to buy more. rollers.
intense dish washing, crab tank mucking, trip-outfit-laundry-planning as well. i could blush for wanting to be fly in new york, but i don't worry about food poisoning, airborne diseases, additive cancers, natural disasters, or stepping in pee when i wear flip flops downtown. i allow myself a slight fear of disapproving strangers at the moma.
word on the street is that little sis found herself an english boyfriend in paris. i forgive her for being a better student than i was, for making varsity her freshman year, for already having long hair, but damn.
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