Of Wet Towels & Text Messages

Waking up on the wrong side of the bed, you wonder if today will be any different from yesterday (or the day before, or the days before that).

The whir of the air conditioning makes it impossible to leave the cover of your sheets. "Quilt keeps me safe and warm" I think to myself.

Snoozing that annoying tone thats coming from your cellphone indicating that you're way past due on the teeth brushing and face washing, you muster the strength to pick your lazy ass out of bed and into the bathroom (just so you don't arrive TOO late and get fired from work).

A drizzle of warm water finally reminds you that you're not living like a refugee anymore (in one of those God-forsaken make shift toilets), and that the shower-hose finally has recovered its water pressure (after 2 months DAMMIT!).

The same singular routine day in and day out is only broken by a vibration, that leads to a light, that leads to a familiar sound. TEXT MESSAGE!


With the inclusion of a pronoun that starts with H somewhere in the body of that message, your entire day (and life) seems that little bit more cheerful, and worth going through (until it goes downhill again with an entire day of ignorance from the opposite party =.=).

What is this chemical reaction within us that makes us react to something as insignificant as an SMS?

They call it love.

I call it nuisance.


Gin "Something sweet that bees eat"