I hope I never grow old …
… enough to become like the lady I met in the common washing room of my apartment building this morning. I realized far too late, when crashing at Andreas’ (Swell Session’s) place, that I had laundry hanging to dry that I needed to collect before eight in the morning. Not very happy I went up too early and rode the tram across town, only to get a lecture from an old woman who you would think was working for Mr Muscle on provision base, given how important cleanliness (which we all know is next to godlyness) is.
What is it with ladies of a certain age, is there really nothing more important in their life than to impose their small reality on other people? Is there a gene that develop with time and will one day consume the Jonatan I know now? The questions are so many, but instead of grappling with them, I’ll get some sleep before my proper (history of religion) lecture today.
What is it with ladies of a certain age, is there really nothing more important in their life than to impose their small reality on other people? Is there a gene that develop with time and will one day consume the Jonatan I know now? The questions are so many, but instead of grappling with them, I’ll get some sleep before my proper (history of religion) lecture today.
/Jonatan, 125 days to being a (aparently sloppy) father.
Posted by in 07:24:21
