Snoring Spouse Rocks Highland Manor

(not really, but just wanted to get your attention.) Thus "NOT FAKE," but poetic quasi true anecdote infused fictionalized by this ole goat with prevarication to enliven of no note characteristic, and certainly not worth quote ting - for any future reference material, imp poet tent to sketch a biography of one otherwise tote tem mick drab existence, that happens moost would vote as exhibiting blank pages, which means no ghost for me life story needed since no words needing tubby wrote. thus the crux of foraging into how the missus snorts in her sonorous way the one repetitive sleepy tune, that doth not warrant a veejay, nor and thespian to reenact a zonked out spouse from exercising at the Y.M.C.A. today, but each increment of time imposes additional wear and tear on the body electric, thus no place...(except... Swiss Side or Willoughby), to runaway from senescence process so one must savor to the maximum propinquity of each moment analogous as if one received money for their existence as being payday before day of reckoning, which could occur any minute, hour, second... with no noway opportune time will provide any leeway, especially for those ping folks immediately at ground zero, where husband or wife kept awake from partner mercilessly growling drones hell bent on then simply jay ping, when agent provocateur awakens only to find themselves bound and gagged unable to attend the Scottish celebration of hogmanay.