I am self-effacing.

These days, I lie in bed and listen to music on my headphones and have cigarettes out my window, staring at the sky, thinking absolutely nothing and everything important at once. But did you know, I am an old woman now, too old for such behaviour?

I hate going home and if I have no other plans, or if I just feel like being alone, which is most of the time, I go to the bar around the corner from work and drink red wine and scribble in a cheap note book, bad poetry and stick figure disturbia. The bar tender knows me now and has started giving me free drinks which is the signal I need to drink less or find a new bar, but I like this one so much, it is perfectly gezillig.

Shit man, nothing changes, everything stays the same.

Yesterday, I went to get my SOFI number, and while I was waiting, I heard two guys talking about a bunch of Columbians that were murdered in their kitchen, just before they moved in, and they joked that, if they lift up the creaky floorboards in the bedroom, theyll find millions of dollars worth of cocaine.

Hell yeah. I am going to google it, find the address, investigate their home for myself and become a euro-illionaire!