there are a few things that just end up in my bag sometimes

I know I always come back to the same ideas but The Smiths really do reach down to my very heart and hidden soul oh so very often. In my dream home I would have a small room painted black that was falling out of the attic and half outside. It would be my listening room. And there I would lay, with my feet above my head as if I were in the dentist's chair, and I would listen to dear Morrissey's voice filling up my heart with the little bits of "I've seen it happening in other people's lives and now it's happening in mine" and "girlfriend in a coma, I know."
Do you know, oh it won't be a shock, I think my dream house is fairly clapboard and I have been wearing something inside out every day for the last week.

And I'm out of Grapenuts.
And I'm having switchplated dreams again and I'm spelling things all British again: behaviour.