You broke the secular chains with your personal hygiene!
Your summer outfit is the tidy whitey with the broken elastic, an exclusive access pass for rooms, balconies and garden.
Your winter outfit is the galvanized flannel pajamas up to the neck, from dawn to dusk.
You are the Paganini of the bed: you will never make it.
As you plan the various housework you already know that you will only begin to do it when you hear the guest car in the driveway.
In what way does garbage "go out"?
You have the opportunity to dishonor the furniture with your girlfriend. If you do not have it, you will defile much more clinex than usual.
Hydrostatic has taught you that dirty dishes, in the water, are washed by inertia. SCIENCE, BITCH!
Dust we were and dust we will be - and, judging from your floor, you're on the right track.
You can perfect those culinary experiments that your mother would not even approve as torture tools.
You understand that having social life is superfluous if you have Netflix.
Sofa and food are a dangerous duo.
Spying strangers from the shades of your window makes you feel like Rambo in the woods: out there they are the law, here inside is you.
Your only roommate is the sweaty socks left on the ground.
Empty bottles and pizza boxes are not garbage but cardinal points.
