(Besides, I romanticized the book and not the movie so it just worked to give them all a role and they still manage to fit those roles four hundred and fifty lifetimes later.)
No, I didn't sleep with Duncan. I went to my own room and lay in the middle of the giant double-king and listened to the eight minutes of rain we got, though this morning most of the rest of the point insisted it was only about three minutes, and so the other five was most likely the white noise from the ceiling fan but I'm fairly certain my teenage dreams can turn that sound into a cascade of endless rain in the dark.
Because I don't know about you but white noise is one thing I actually can't stand, whether it's the slight hum from a guitar plugged into an amplifier, air-conditioning in a truck, the sounds the fridge makes or static from a television, I just absolutely hate it. I also hate neck-labels in shirts, wet potato skin residue on my fingers and I can't even look at frayed toothbrush bristles so there you go. I don't know what any of this means.
Add it to the raging fears of blooming teas...and what was th-
Peat fires.
Oh yes, added to the irrational fears and I would say you're probably....autistic.
Since EVERYONE has a thing or a whole list of things like that, I'm probably completely normal.
Not if they are strange, highly-specific things like that.
I have never heard of a single person on EARTH say HEY! I love those scratchy tags in the backs of my shirts! Have you?
They don't bother most people.
PJ, you're a liar.
Take a poll.
I don't have time for that. Now please stop picking on me and fix the fan so it doesn't sound like that?