Cake or Death? |
"We're gonna run out of cake at this rate!" |
A neighbor, reeking of weed, tears out of a parking space in his Porsche SUV, nearly running over another car, for the second day in a row.
I spend five minutes staring at a cigarette butt on the fire escape, wondering how it got right outside my window on the top floor, picturing a Dr. Evil smoking and staring at my shoe collection.
A text message arrives, informing me I’m late for happy hour, as I stand in the bathroom with a glass of wine in one hand and cleaning product in the other. I really want to clean that tub.
