When the train driver keeps us informed of why our train has stopped and how long it will be before it starts again, I don’t mind at all.
When leaving the train, I actually felt sorry for the little bug that was trying to get out through the glass because I knew it’ll die on that train.
I shouldn’t get mad at anyone but myself when I push the wrong button on the remote sending BBCi into a coma instead of flicking to the France vs Sweden Switzerland game.
I should have left the pasta in the oven for another 5 minutes.
When did I last pick up a book?
Why is my back so sore?
Why aren’t I going to bed, I’ve got to get up early to make Louise breakfast in bed.
