Last night in the housesitting gig.
What better way to celebrate than by sitting and pondering a foot and a half of freshly fallen powder with a beer? Why, in an outdoor hot tub, of course.
A snow angel has never been so brisk, I might add. I so rarely get to do mostly-undressed snow angels sober.
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Translating Czech and b̶i̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ running around the Central Coast since 2007
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2 comments:
now what's the fun in house-stitting if you don't have a best-friend around to vomit in every sink in the house and then get naked and jump in the bathtub?
It did seem like an uneventful time, that's for sure.
Alas.
(heh. I wonder what'll happen with the Colonel Linguist Mark III?)
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