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My sister got me this real fancy, expensive laundry detergent for Christmas, and I washed my bedding with it. The first night I dreamt I was drowning in a candle and the next I woke up with my blanket in my mouth. No one ever said the transition to boujee would be an easy one.
(looking up from my book) only a couple words in and already i know i’m gonna like this book. this dickens guy immediately establishes that it was the best of times. people used to write about that kind of thing, just good guys having a nice time. (i turn back to the book) f***!