ONLY GOOD THINGS TO REPORT
Unless the microwave secretly moves around in the night and spies on me.
My apartment mate's sheep jammies are cute but not actionable.
I'm a messy sleeper. Toss and turn.
Lots of books on the bed.
Oh, the horror.
Actually, about the only thing the microwave can report is that we both lead exceptionally virtuous lives, occasionally punctuated with hot beverages.
She has a boyfriend in a wheel chair who never comes around. And surely all they do is hold hands and pray when they are at his place.
I, as is well known, have no snookie-wookie going on whatsoever, what with being a dessicated old prune who collects postage stamps.
Repeat: exceptionally virtuous lives.
The microwave must be bored.
Which is very sad.
There is no large bucket of piping hot fresh fried chicken here, but instead a withered old rooster's gnarly foot.
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