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Jenny

Now I had my own little house, my kitchen, bath, bedroom, and even a little porch where I could look out on the lake.

«I can’t cook even if my life depended on it, sorry! But I shit you not; I’m a devil at cleaning the dishes!»

Jenny laughed, she continued to surprise me, and I scolded myself for judging her by her looks. I take myself in doing this over and over again. We were now slumped down on my tiny couch with a cold beer each, waiting for my gourmet lunch to finish.

Suddenly I jumped out of the couch and sprinted into the kitchen; crap crap! Jenny came right behind me and leaned back on the wall laughing. At the same time, I attached the microheater just in time! Jerking the door open, I sigh and see the red number that shows 0.01! I hate that microwave-biping!

So our gourmet lunch is premade lasagna, heated in the micro! What a luxury!

But the lasagna smelled and tasted like a little piece of heaven and with another ice-cold beer.

There we sat, out on the porch, sipping on c
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