Every Sunday night, without fail, I sit in my apartment and smell cigarette smoke. I know it's coming from my neighbor, but I can't figure out why he only smokes on Sundays. He's there all the damn time (I know because I can hear him), but apparently on Sunday nights he either decides to get in some work on his lung cancer, or he invites over his chain-smoking grandmother who is evidently too feeble to step outside to light up and too addicted to just hold out for a few hours. Because there's no way any sane person would allow anyone else to just sit in his apartment and smoke all night, or would do the same himself on only one day of the week.
Showing posts with label sundays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sundays. Show all posts
Sunday, January 4, 2009
My neighbor only smoking cigarettes on Sundays is marbles
Every Sunday night, without fail, I sit in my apartment and smell cigarette smoke. I know it's coming from my neighbor, but I can't figure out why he only smokes on Sundays. He's there all the damn time (I know because I can hear him), but apparently on Sunday nights he either decides to get in some work on his lung cancer, or he invites over his chain-smoking grandmother who is evidently too feeble to step outside to light up and too addicted to just hold out for a few hours. Because there's no way any sane person would allow anyone else to just sit in his apartment and smoke all night, or would do the same himself on only one day of the week.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Chick fil-A being closed on Sundays is marbles
As long as I live, I will never remember this simple fact. There's something about Sunday that gets me a hankerin' for fried chicken sandwiches and waffle fries, and there's something about Chick fil-A that insists on not being open and not warning me before I get in the car and drive several miles and rediscover its Sunday-closedness. Why must we continually do this dance, Chick fil-A? It should be clear by now that I'm never going to learn.
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