Note: a personal experience story under the cut. nothing triggering, but I feel the need to say this: I am a Christian. I believe in God and what he says to us in the Bible. I follow Jesus, who lived the life I should’ve lived and died the death I should’ve died, all so I could have life and reconciliation with God through him.
I don’t say this to be preachy. I am well aware that many of my followers are not Christians. I am aware that some of you may harbor strong feelings towards anything to do with God or Jesus. The reason I say it is because it affects every part of my life to such a degree that it cannot be left out of my personal life stories. To cut those out would be dishonest and cowardly on my part, so I thought it best to write it as it was and put this “disclaimer” here to let y’all know.
This is a personal blog, so I have no qualms about posting my own personal stuff. If you have any questions or comment regarding this post, my beliefs, or other posts, or anything really, have a go at my ask box here.
*also, the “Flatmate Chronicles” is simply posts I write regarding the life I and three other lovely ladies lead in our quaint university apartment. Apartment-mate is too long, so we just say flatmate.
I’m just about to crawl into bed, and my flatmates return from wherever they’ve been and they’re being a little loud :/
Okay they quieted down I’m good :D
1. Bake them nutella-filled chocolate chip cookies.
2. Leave the nutella and extra cookie dough in fridge for future consumption.
3. Allow the warm aroma of cookies to fill the entire apartment.
How to make your flatmates frustrated:
-Not be around to ask if we can eat a cookie, thus prolonging our torment as the smell wafts into our nostrils and terrorizes the olfactory and memory/association cortexes of our brains.
-Be in your room the whole time we’re wondering where you are to ask if we can eat the cookies, but not make any sounds and come out an hour later to our dismay and delight.