I have a good reason to eat take-out from now on. Yesterday night I tried to cook vegetables and pasta at the same time on my 2-plate stove thingy, and perhaps they were on for a bit long, or perhaps there just wasn’t enough ventilation, but the whole room filled up with moisture that condensed on the floor and the walls, making everything slippery. The little rangehood whirred away but it couldn’t cope and looked dangerously close to dripping its collected gunk back into my food. Such is the tiny-box-ness of my flat. So I was there trying to get everything cooked as quickly as possible when I noticed something really revolting: the walls were dripping a digusting brown liquid. Ewww. The liquid was dripping qo quickly I had to run and wipe all of it up before it dripped onto anything that I wanted to keep. I figure it must have been tar from someone who had smoked inside that had become stuck to the walls and was now dripping back off with my cooking steam. Straight from the inside of his lungs to me.

Gross.

So very gross.

This is just another case of me wanting to find whoever lived here before me and punch them in the nose. Yeah, you know who you are.