The Awful Truth, Day 4: Could Be Working Harder
Socar's Silly Photo Diary: Part Four of Six
Here it is, just past tea on a Wednesday, and look at me: still in my nightgown, cluttering up the doorframe. Typical. I haven't even had tea. Cooking, apparently, looked too much like work. I'd order in, but I haven't got any money. I never have any money. There aren't enough jobs for door-loitering hoodlums.
It's a lovely evening. The sun's going down over the city, and there's a floral smell abroad. Maybe I'll get dressed and go for a walk. Maybe I'll not get dressed, and go for a walk anyway. Who would know, with my coat over top?