I overheard myself mention the other day that this blog has had a therapeutic effect on the inhabitants of this domicile (myself included.) I explained that posting on this blog has made us all better roommates and that is the reason for my recent hiatus from posting.
This morning, I found myself eating those words.
Let's have a look, shall we?
What is this? A place where a bum sleeps?
Nope, couldn't be... I doubt any self-respecting bum would leave their full pack of delicious cigarettes and lighter behind. What other clues can we find?
Well, if Rain Man were here, he's say something like "There are definitely 132 cigarette butts, 2 half empty cans, 2 empty cigarette packs, one plastic bottle, and 37 days worth of ashes. Definitely 37 days worth of cigarette ashes. Ten minutes to Wapner!"
I don't know what cigarette smokers eat. I don't know how they reproduce. What I do know is that they were born to turn front porches into absolute pits of squalor.
Thank you.
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