The Hemingway Life at your door step

Hey guys, picture this:

It’s the middle of the summer. You are reaching Hemingway-level man status. You wake up, stretch yawn, move over to your lovely wife who has rosy cheeks and has a hint of a European accent (don’t forget that scar on her left cheek from that African Safari a couple years ago), kiss her, whisper something about going out to collect your chicken and drink some unpasteurised milk.You say hello to your dog who licks your hand and you secretly hate that about her. 188 more words