Why The Gods Do Not Have Standing Permission to Visit
The other day, I was sitting and chatting with my S.O., having one of those stupid couple conversations, like you do, and my housemate asked me a question.
I screamed like a church lady.
It’s not that I’m afraid of my housemate. He’s one of those big, fluffy, lovable types who volunteers at an animal shelter and refuses to pursue a career that doesn’t help people.
The thing is, I thought my S.O. and I were alone. I wasn’t prepared to accept a third person into my reality at just that moment. I had no warning, and I was caught with my shmoopy-face on, being vulnerable, like you do when you are talking to someone who has been sleeping in the bed where you fart for over a decade. It was the wrong face for my housemate.
It was like…
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