I, Priestess (8)

I, PRIESTESS (8)

Now.

My utopia was generally going quite well: exciting, exhilarating.

Life-affirmingly swell.

So.

I took the carpet and underlay (which we'd removed very happily in less than a day) to the tip.

Should've paid for a skip. (Why, on earth, do we acquire so much idiot shit, when we only throw it away?)

The trip to the tip sort of ruined my day.

I downed a gin and hit the hay.