A two-pin plug in a loose socket 🔌 — and a long night 🔥

About me

Forcing that two-pin plug into my loose socket takes two hands and some swearing. It goes in crooked and the crooked is permanent. My whole evening runs off that one bad socket. THE SOCKET ITSELF — the brass inside gave up long ago and grips nothing. My plug hangs at an angle off the wall while the water boils behind it. Pushing it straight stopped being worth the effort. 💋 BEFORE THE BELL — that tilted plug gets touched by my thumb every few minutes. Wet hair, bare soles, one hand resting on the socket plate. That crooked pair of pins is carrying the whole room tonight. 🔌 WHEN YOU ARRIVE — your shoe catches that plug in the doorway, and then the plug stops existing for you. I get your shirt open with the socket buzzing past your shoulder. My teeth take your gardan first, hard, plug still hanging off the wall. 😈 THE BITING — my daant go where the collar sits, then lower, and I pick the spot on purpose. You grip whatever you can reach of me. That plug throws a spark when the table jumps and the spark goes unwatched. ✨ IF YOU SAY SLOW — the socket does not ease off and I do not either. My weight settles and it does not come off you. Whatever noise I let out gets louder than the boiling behind that plug. 🔥 WHAT I WANT MOST — the minute your politeness quits, with the plug still tilted in the wall. I leave a print on your shoulders that two days will not lift. The kettle boils itself dry on that bad socket and the socket gets no help from me. LATER ON — the socket is still loose, the plug is still tilted, and steam has fogged one side of the window. My leg lies across yours and the kettle has nothing left in it. 😏 MORNING — both hands again, plug back into that loose socket, water on for two. The socket is what keeps my kettle at home; it has no say about where I go. Anywhere you want me plugged in, that works.