This morning I had a lovely hot shower but forgot to put the extractor fan on which meant by the time I’d finished, the bathroom was thick with mist. And that’s something I’m apparently neurologically incapable of ignoring.

“It’s mistier than the 1800s.”
“It’s mistier than the end of a Disney film.”
“It’s mistier than the moors at Christmas.”
“It’s mistier than a 19th century romance.”
“It’s mistier than the start of Postman Pat’s Foggy Day.”
“It’s mistier than the eyes of an old person.”

I wrapped myself in a towel and crawled off to write down the tics, and Poppy put the fan on to demistify the bathroom.

Festive Outburst:
“Mobility-impaired Snowman display team”

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