It is not only our commode which weeps; we all weep when my husband makes bean soup (although the soup is, itself, delicious, in spite of its consequences that inevitably follow).
I look at the wall see the roll there that’s cringing, while my commode gently weeps. I leave the bathroom and the fan is still blowing, still my commode gently weeps.
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which weeps; we all weep when my husband makes bean soup (although the soup is, itself, delicious, in spite of its...
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About marinelli's miscellany
Welcome to my Medium sized blog! A plus-sized version, Southern Discomfort, is also available.
On Twitter, I'm @vmarinelli, (following is NOT recommended for not for family members, ex-lovers, or the otherwise faint of heart) , and @gotmefired (an occasional chronicle of anecdotes, sometimes funny, collected over my decades-long march toward unemployability).
If you feel so moved
Email: vmarinelli(at)gmail•com.
