Every time
I am at home, in me jammies, and I have run out of skins. Before anyone can come home and save me and bring me some. Before you have to put on clothes and go the shop.
That search around the house, upstairs, downstairs, and in every single pocket of everything you have ever worn, where you know papers don't live because you have looked there before, many times.
Then you find an almost empty packet. With a few in it to tide you over. And you kiss it. Like it saved your life. Instead of shortening it by a decade at least.
I love those moments.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 1:12, 1 reply)

But you live about 10 feet from the shop!!!

( skeltonator Needs some new daps., Mon 27 Jan 2014, 17:39, closed)