quiet happiness seriously
I have the second batch of muffins in the oven, I just have a beer with a few slices of salami on the table sit-Iberian table with the hearth, the fire is lit; smells like baked apples and sweet potatoes that have made my parents to RNE3 sounded a few minutes ago, I have horrible pajamas with a little ugly poncho that my mother made a point, the oven just beeps and I have to get the muffins and I feel gilipollasmente happy.
Pasapalabra gonna start and my mother will always screaming like the donut, and tonight I'll see The Covenant with my mom, I'll have to see one substantive discussion hearing my father's snoring.
Nevertheless, damn, it is impossible that you do not feel comfortable with the famiia.
: _)
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