Why just the day I am with fever, haggard, with my shirt "I was born that foxes on Princess", my jeans and my jacket piggy be at home, trekking sandals and wool socks disheveled, pale, I have to go down to the poor dogs that are home all day because I'm Malita? Why is the day must have an emergency come on my street and firefighters? Why? But worst of all, why just this one day to give firefighters for stopping to chat with me and pat my dog?
not fair, with the time it took me so glamorous waiting for this moment, in which I should be bright and shining star in the sky which in spring and after a few glances, and after loosing my hair in the wind end up giving us our phones, and I get the day took the noserag in hand.
I think I'm going back to bed with paracetamol and a box of tissues that compaginaré between snot and tears of rage.
not fair, with the time it took me so glamorous waiting for this moment, in which I should be bright and shining star in the sky which in spring and after a few glances, and after loosing my hair in the wind end up giving us our phones, and I get the day took the noserag in hand.
I think I'm going back to bed with paracetamol and a box of tissues that compaginaré between snot and tears of rage.
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