Sometimes
if I reminisce about living in Paris too much, I actually cry. Like a big old
wimpy baby I well up; my bottom lip starts quivering and I full on ball my eyes
out. I miss our apartment with its hideous green bathroom/orange kitchen combo, I miss how we had
to cook nachos in a slow cooker because we had no oven (takes 1 hour 15 minute for cheese to melt sufficiently if you're wondering), I miss the freezing/scalding kitchen tap that offered no washing up level appropriate heat compromise, I miss losing my shit on Disneyland's Tower of Terror every other weekend, I miss pain aux raisins being my only source
of fruit and that being totally
okay... Kim K
cryface in full flow over here so let's look at some pictures instead, eh?
