Horizon's alive with electric light.

I haven't watered my plants or mowed the lawn, and my kitchen smells faintly of something decomposing, though I'm not sure what, or where it is. This is largely due to the fact that I haven't bothered to look. I will be a terrible housewife if I ever become one. There's something vaguely romantic, though, about living in squalor. I'm less lonely with mess. If this is the way of all single people I'm clearly doomed.