The happy place

Today as I stood cooking, I am a fantastic chef, which is remarkable because I haven’t got no sense of smell and thus I can’t really taste it. Except. Today I felt the smell of olive oil frying in the pan, but then nothing else.

Speaking of which, tomorrow a friend from school, a bad influence from the past who introduced me to drugs and alcohol and so forth, will pay us a visit.

I feel thankful that someone would deign to do that for me, to be a bad influence, so that I too could get a taste of what it might feel like to live.