Kuh Kuh Kuh Kuh Kowkayne

While my house mates are slaving to keep the house clean and free of fleas, on the verge of influenza or abroad getting drunk more slowly and expensively then would be possible in governmentless Belgium; I go to work and come home bubbling with joy.

Mostly because I've allowed myself to crush on a colleague, mostly to escape the love sickness of a heart broken in the last year; and which will soon enough case me despair.

I must be honest it is almost alien to me to type theoppostie of hope; I can't yet imagine what horror and sadness and grief I feel when I'm not in this mood and I've been this bubbly for so long I'm starting to suspect my housemates of putting cocaïne in my food. The only reason I know this cannot be possible is that all of them would rather snobble (sic) the fairy dust themselves.