Kuso Samui Desu Ka?
Nov. 26th, 2006 08:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blacklillyIn English that translates as " Isn't it fucking cold?" or " Fucking cold, isn't it?"
I've left the apartment for the sum total of about 45 minutes today, excluding the ten minutes when I tried to do my recycling but found that someone had craftily padlocked the goram shed we're meant to put our detritus in. The more I think about it, the more just being a pikey and fly-tipping appeals. I have a pile of old futons about three feet high, and no idea what to do with them.
It's so cold in this apartment that my back hurts. I was trying to wait at least until a civilised time before going to hide in my bed from the cold, but I think I'm going to give up. It's 8.45pm. Sod it, I'm going to hide under the layers of blankets and fleece I've made a cocoon from.
The new place had better be warmer than this. I suspect it's actually warmer outside. The thought of sitting in one of the bars in Soap Street is looking more appealing the further up my legs the ice creeps. Alcoholism is preferable to hypothermia - at least the singing keeps you warm.
My eyes hurt. I think I've been staring at this machine for far too long.
I've left the apartment for the sum total of about 45 minutes today, excluding the ten minutes when I tried to do my recycling but found that someone had craftily padlocked the goram shed we're meant to put our detritus in. The more I think about it, the more just being a pikey and fly-tipping appeals. I have a pile of old futons about three feet high, and no idea what to do with them.
It's so cold in this apartment that my back hurts. I was trying to wait at least until a civilised time before going to hide in my bed from the cold, but I think I'm going to give up. It's 8.45pm. Sod it, I'm going to hide under the layers of blankets and fleece I've made a cocoon from.
The new place had better be warmer than this. I suspect it's actually warmer outside. The thought of sitting in one of the bars in Soap Street is looking more appealing the further up my legs the ice creeps. Alcoholism is preferable to hypothermia - at least the singing keeps you warm.
My eyes hurt. I think I've been staring at this machine for far too long.