Seriously. When walking about the Left Bank in Paris you really should not be distracted by pastries in a window. This is why I would rather eat chicken off a bone than put my bags down on public floors.Miss.
Speaking in the language of pastries, this is one sad piece of pumpkin pie. I bet some people enjoy squashing through these K9 tasties. Activate the yeeeesh button.
That's some pretty interesting colouration in the asphalt around this dog refuse. It's as if the feces is sucking the moisture right out of the Seine to reform into some other shape or something.
Three verifiable things about me. One. I am an only child. The concept of sharing, therefore, is foreign to me. Two. I am a Virgo. The sign regarded as a perfectionist. Three. My mother raised me to be meticulously clean; compulsively tidy. According to my mother, "You have taken this clean thing way too far." I disagree. Apologies to my mother.
Nature or nurture? Who knows? Who cares? I have not been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Nor would I label myself a Cleanaholic. Or a Germaphobe. My world though, is definitely a unique place. One where doors open magically. Hotel mattresses are pristine. And estheticians never double dip.
I live in this world without a bubble or a honeycomb mask. About 15 years ago I got tired of catching the flu du jour and became ever more so hygienically vigilant -- perhaps obsessively so.
Speaking in the language of pastries, this is one sad piece of pumpkin pie. I bet some people enjoy squashing through these K9 tasties. Activate the yeeeesh button.
ReplyDeleteThat's some pretty interesting colouration in the asphalt around this dog refuse. It's as if the feces is sucking the moisture right out of the Seine to reform into some other shape or something.
ReplyDelete