I'm going through all the different ways to have a dry martini, but first..
I lay in bed and listen to the ladybugs fall into my hair.
My roommate, I call him my roommate instead of my housemate because this is not a house, but or do we share a room. Still it is not a flat, or else he would be my flatmate. I use to tell Philip's friends in London that we lived together and he immediately said, oh nooooo, we share a flat.
I left a drunken message on my Swedish friend's voicemail when I heard she was losing her apartment. Sorry about the flat! I texted. I'm such a cultural dilettante. I'm enjoying this beefeater martini: two parts gin, one part extra dry vermouth. Maybe less vermouth next time and a spanish olive.
Daniel loves vodka martinis. No vermouth, just the dirty olive mix in the shaker and a surplus of olives. He even has an array of colorful straws and toothpicks. His socialization skills are astounding.
I have a great apartment and tonight has been good for reading and making comments on facebook.