Yesterday I came home dying.
probably before leaving the office I have not sacrificed enough to the Sacred GRA white lambs and fat cows, and he, bloodthirsty, I was punished with a blocking traffic between the output of Casal del Marmo and that of Cassia. (In indoor track, for the usual fussy)
All the good intentions home set with fatigue in the morning were liquefied in the heat of burning my inability to deal with any logistical organizational matter that contains the word "domestic".
My return home and then was picked up by the applause of my son and a series of small voices that only I seem to hear, but believe me they are real!
" Zzz ... zzz ... I am a washing machine ... that you buy the new washing machine to do if you have five loads back then? "It was like the hissing of a snake, only missing the tab bifida ...
" Anfatti "She replied" Funari "the flannel cloth to dry himself off. "So dry washes, and then nun ce Stenn Stenn diocescampiellibberi that if we loose here hanging from Christmas to Easter!"
"My Lady!" Complained the wooden peg with the gossipy sisters. "Since I went away that Santuomo of her husband, there is no one that uses a decent ... Then they say that marriages come apart ..." I did
pretend nothing has happened, I took the sheet stretched beating it very carefully and smoothing back because I pulled a couple of clips fed to Lilli's dog Daisy, who loves to nibble, so you understand exactly who controls the house.
"Blob, blob ..." He sighed the kitchen sink. "Do you think you are you going to wash some dishes, sooner or later?" But he has not said with malice, in fact, I've found a tone of resignation that made me tenderly and I thought, okay ... that will never ... I'll put commitment and a couple of hours I washed all the dishes.
"Do not forget me!" She shouted the pan dramatically reduce the strength of the balcony, where he lay on Sunday evening, forgotten air after the umpteenth "friggitanza" bread.
At the sight of the fat that floated among the dirty dishes I knew I would not have ever made, but desperation in the last flash of light, the last two bowls clean, bright two forks hidden in the secret drawer for emergencies, and a glass .
E 'was there that I really discovered the secret of happiness, the one designed by Ungaretti, what he called "the joy of the shipwrecked" When all is lost ... you realize that you are still surviving and happiness is all in the compressed awareness of the eternal moment.
Happiness is: the last, fucking, clean fork.
Amen.
(and tomorrow is always another day) From the blog: Shadows and Poppies of Donna_Ombra
probably before leaving the office I have not sacrificed enough to the Sacred GRA white lambs and fat cows, and he, bloodthirsty, I was punished with a blocking traffic between the output of Casal del Marmo and that of Cassia. (In indoor track, for the usual fussy)
All the good intentions home set with fatigue in the morning were liquefied in the heat of burning my inability to deal with any logistical organizational matter that contains the word "domestic".
My return home and then was picked up by the applause of my son and a series of small voices that only I seem to hear, but believe me they are real!
" Zzz ... zzz ... I am a washing machine ... that you buy the new washing machine to do if you have five loads back then? "It was like the hissing of a snake, only missing the tab bifida ...
" Anfatti "She replied" Funari "the flannel cloth to dry himself off. "So dry washes, and then nun ce Stenn Stenn diocescampiellibberi that if we loose here hanging from Christmas to Easter!"
"My Lady!" Complained the wooden peg with the gossipy sisters. "Since I went away that Santuomo of her husband, there is no one that uses a decent ... Then they say that marriages come apart ..." I did
pretend nothing has happened, I took the sheet stretched beating it very carefully and smoothing back because I pulled a couple of clips fed to Lilli's dog Daisy, who loves to nibble, so you understand exactly who controls the house.
"Blob, blob ..." He sighed the kitchen sink. "Do you think you are you going to wash some dishes, sooner or later?" But he has not said with malice, in fact, I've found a tone of resignation that made me tenderly and I thought, okay ... that will never ... I'll put commitment and a couple of hours I washed all the dishes.
"Do not forget me!" She shouted the pan dramatically reduce the strength of the balcony, where he lay on Sunday evening, forgotten air after the umpteenth "friggitanza" bread.
At the sight of the fat that floated among the dirty dishes I knew I would not have ever made, but desperation in the last flash of light, the last two bowls clean, bright two forks hidden in the secret drawer for emergencies, and a glass .
E 'was there that I really discovered the secret of happiness, the one designed by Ungaretti, what he called "the joy of the shipwrecked" When all is lost ... you realize that you are still surviving and happiness is all in the compressed awareness of the eternal moment.
Happiness is: the last, fucking, clean fork.
Amen.
(and tomorrow is always another day) From the blog: Shadows and Poppies of Donna_Ombra
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