(no subject)

There are tiny Honduran men singing drinking songs perched outside my windows.

Somehow, when I wasn't looking, I got stuck in the middle of a really bad movie. Lest you think I am being assaulted by little people, they are actually painting my house. The landlord decided that the house HAD to be painted, so, painters.

If I have to hear the one about the beautiful woman who killed him ONE MORE TIME, I might snap.