The ramblings, almost certainly not daily, of a thirty-something year old. I named it sillily (and knowingly). I'm not almost thirty three, I'm past that, but can't be bothered to change the name.
My hot water bottle. It's like a security blanket. Without it I struggle to sleep. I have tried to not use it, hearing the jeers of my friends. I had to have it back. It has to be above 25 degrees (celcius) for me to not want it. Seriously. This is Thirty Days of Truth. I cannot lie.
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