I came home from work to an explanation of why my landlord’s a little off: the entire apartment stank of paint. Walking towards the dizzying scent’s source, I found Mr. Michaels in the bathroom with the window open just a crack. I tried explaining that he needs more ventilation, but he countered that “it smells good” and, no joke, “it makes me happy” as he proceeded to inhale deeply from the open paint can. Showing him the can’s warning didn’t help: he explained that he’s been painting for 50 years. My protest that I’ve also been painting for years was shot down: “I’m too young.” Apparently, knowledge of the benefits of smelling things with toxicity warnings comes only at a later age…
        The overnight train wasn’t my best idea ever. It worked fine on the way to Dublin, but the way back was a different story. Uncomfortable seats combined with a train switch midway through the night to knock quite a bit of time away from sleep. My favorite was when the man boarding for his morning commute decided to wake me up so he could have one of the two seats I was taking up, never mind that there were more seats left on the bus. I was too tired to even say anything to him! So, most of the day at work was spent falling asleep, and I took a nice big nap after work. In fact, I think I’ll go back to bed right now.

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