The people I live with need to learn how not to burn the shit out of things till the smoke of it fills every crevice and corner and collects in my room to my utter ruin. Day after day. After day.
.
.
.
After day.
Perhaps I could find some perfume to snort. I can't imagine it doing more damage.
For fuck's sake people, when you lay odiferous civil war to the house have the courtesy to open a fucking window.
I'm going to go retch until this... odor is replaced with the far lovelier scent of my own vomit.
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