Slam

I wish I could do this.  But if I can’t, I am sure as anything glad that there are people in the world who can.

One of my housemates drank the home-brewed beer that my friend Andy gave me for my birthday.  It was a nondescript bottle, labeled with Sharpie, waiting between the milk and the ketchup for the special occasion I had been saving it for.  Not a specific special occasion, but perhaps a Friday night when I had my wool socks on and my friends around me.

Apparently, someone else had a greater need than I.  I’m resisting the urge to leave a passive aggressive sticky note, as I know it wouldn’t be becoming for a twenty-two year old to pout, or to throw a tantrum on the linoleum.

So I’m in my room, taking small bites out of The Faerie Queen and scowling at Sunday night and all it implies.

And watching Slam, of course.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Slam

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s