My grandma always used to say "everyone else is a normal person, but something always happens to you!"
I remembered her words on a number of occasions, most recently fifteen minutes ago, when I was running around my roof underdressed, barefoot and with a fishing rod.
It's not my fault, really. The upstairs' neighbor dropped his towel on my roof, I promised to get it, and the fishing rod that my Israeli relatives left in my place last summer came in very handy (also for self-defensive anti-bird violence), but why do those things always happen to me?
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
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