“It’s not real pasta,” says D. Summoning all her contempt, “it’s store bought.”
So apparently I have to start planting wheat; unsure where to go when she starts feeling entitled to that as well.
“It’s not real pasta,” says D. Summoning all her contempt, “it’s store bought.”
So apparently I have to start planting wheat; unsure where to go when she starts feeling entitled to that as well.