My love is in the supermarket of the heart.
Take my love, you'll find it on the shelves in the sweets section.
On the shelf between the "Abbracci" and "Coccole" biscuits from Mulino Candido.
Just below the "Baci" della Perdindirindina.
It is not obvious but its value is justified by the high quality.
100% pure love, first choice.
Do not be distracted by discounted offers, 3x2 or convenience prices, with love there is no discount, Trust me.
You will be entitled to the loyalty card, it will be your love alone and that of no other person.
My love is not in a poke, you can find it in a transparent crystal vase to see the high quality. No misleading, retouched or misleading images about the content. You can find it in the healthy and natural things department.
Few and simple ingredients, no preservatives or antioxidants. My love follows time and transforms with it, like good wine. When you uncork me it will always be an intoxicating experience.
If you put my love in your cart you will not regret it, you will like it so much that you will lick your fingers.
Attention, the offer is limited to one person. Do not lose the opportunity.
Warm and fragrant in winter as well as fresh and intoxicating in summer, you can consume it as you like, alone or with the addition of passion fruit.
When you have opened my love, keep me in a sheltered place, close to you. I have no deadline, I can last a lifetime if you want.
I do not leave crumbs and not dirty, my love is clean do not have delay and consume it quietly on the sofa as well as in bed.
You cannot find it online, but you have to take it directly with your own hands, only in this way you will be sure to always have it with you.
Do not waste time, the promotion is about to expire you may not find it anymore. Hurry up!
Research shows that British women do 60% more housework. Is there any hope for balance when it comes to emptying the bins?
Why, exactly, is housework so annoying? Certain specific chores are obviously pretty unpleasant: few people relish cleaning the toilet, or extracting mouldy vegetables from the bottom drawer of the fridge. But why housework in general? Part of the answer, surely, is that it’s unending, so you never achieve that satisfying sense of getting it out of the way, nor even of having made a little progress. The only reason you’re stacking the dishwasher is so the dishes can be dirtied again tomorrow; you’re fishing the toddler’s toys from under the sofa so he can fling them back there as soon as he wakes up. “Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition,” wrote Simone de Beauvoir, in The Second Sex, published in 1949. “The clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.” Needless to say, De Beauvoir wasn’t objecting solely to the work, but to the division of labour: housework is also annoying because, if you’re a woman living with a man, it’s highly likely you end up doing most of it, no matter who earns more, or who spends longer at the office. To be fair to us, men do a lot more housework than in 1949. But women still do a lot more than that. So now both sexes have grounds to resent how much of their lives they spend with Toilet Duck in hand, or scooping bits of spaghetti from the kitchen sink.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 