When I moved into my new apartment, I decided to start using my Grandma's daisy glasses. They shouldn't sit a box; they should be enjoyed, looked at, used. So, I sold my plain glasses at my stoop sale and unpacked Grandma's daisy glasses. They're fazdorable!
The other night I shut myself in my room to read my script and when I emerged my roommate said to me, "I broke one of your yellow flowered glasses."
"Ah, boo," I replied.
Yet, over the past two days my resentment has grown in magic beanstalk proportions.
It's not that it was Grandma's glass. It's not that they've only been out of a box for two weeks. It's that he didn't apologize.
Who made this guy?
...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Ugh. I am hating him more and more. Hang in there, lady!
Post a Comment