On the plus side, I now know that I can knock open a door if I have to. The downside consists of our door now being broken. But it was broken when I broke it, so it’s all good. The little metal bit that goes into the hole to keep the whole thing shut isn’t there any more, so I guess we’ll have to use the lock as a means of holding the door shut. How sad. I really don’t care for locks.

In other news, yesterday I was questioned by someone about my accent again. A little old lady in my building wondered if I was English and then someone who I know slightly better admitted that they thought I was English for a while too. So add that to the times people thought I was French or from the American South or a generic “American” sounding. I honestly don’t know how I talk, but I kinda enjoy that it confuses everyone. I’m sticking with the theory that since I declared my independance I’ve developed my own accent.

Moving from the style I speak to the content of what I say I must recall a conversation with Marq from a few days back. I was all “Don’t you listen when I talk?” and he replied “Well, two thirds of what you say is about gay sex, so no…” and I could not fault him for it.