I come home from running and there is the water, freshly boiled and purified, waiting for me. Cleansing water -- o hated chore! How glad I am that somebody else does you, now!!!
Even if I feel like kind of a prat that someone else makes my own water for me. And washes my sheets. And picks my clothes up off the floor of my room. And sweeps dead grasshoppers away for me. Makes my coffee. Drives me where I want to go. Guards me as I sleep at night.
It's a weird life, here. A cross between living in a Jane Austen novel with servants and luxury; and living in a Charles Dickens novel with dirt, trash heaps in the street, and danger and hunger and desire.
About Me
- Rachel
- If I told you what organization I work for, which I'm not going to do, then I would also let you know that all opinions expressed here are strictly my own, which they are.
