Past secrets...

My last days as a corridor full-timer are drawing to a near, though they are determined to squeeze every last drop out of me...they now want an API Integration kit written up in a day and a half. Right away, sir. Would you like it leather-bound?

Went to teach some English last night, as well as consume a little Southern Comfort, and came back to see mrs. anglosaxy slumped on the sofa in exhaustion. I put my keys on the kitchen counter top thingy, only to be met with a blood-curdling scream..."Don't dare put your keys there! I've just spent the last 2 hours cleaning that! You could even eat your dinner off of it!". OK, that I won't be trying, but she'd done a fine job. imshin would have snapped her up, right there and then...

Strange though it may seem, at this time of the year I always manage to forget my past as a very illegal tourist (the Ministry of Interior would send out search parties...) who made a pretty penny cleaning apartments. Those were the days when I wasn't fussy about work, women or waves...just don't mention it to mrs. anglosaxy or she'll have me kitted out in those pink rubber gloves of hers in no time...