So…it finally stopped raining.
And I have been waiting patiently for an hour as a…
slug…
makes its slow, patient way across my ceiling, occasionally looping downward on a connecting wall, although never down enough for me to take up arms, or at least stubby brooms, against it, then suctioning its painful, Sir Edmund Hilarious way back up, out of reach.
If it lets go and falls on my clean laundry, I think I may just have to kill myself.
Still, I guess it’s a step up from last year, when I had to pick mushrooms out of the carpet in my living room. I love my apartment: if I stay here long enough, eventually I’ll be able to farm salmon in the bathroom.
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Don't keep it to yourself!