Thursday, December 15, 2011

A QUIET PLACE WITH BOOKS

Over the years very few people have been in my apartment.
It’s not that I am particularly inhospitable, but it's more a question of space and privacy. The apartment is small, and contains a lot of stuff. In addition to my roommate’s belongings, and the rather excessive number of books that both of us have accumulated, it contains my things. Which includes enough pipe tobacco to last for several years.

I like the sight of reading matter and tobacco tins stacked on shelves and in corners. Some people, however, might freak. The collection of pottery and porcelain is also a little excessive, though most of it is packed away in bins.
Not much maneuvering room, and a number of breakable objects.

So what with the fact that it’s tiny, it’s also a little crowded.
It might look disorganized to you, but to me it’s “cozy”.
Even if the only ‘cozy’ area really is my bed.

[My roommate’s bed is not cozy, but OFF-limits. As is her room.]



WHO'S THAT?!?

My bed is comfortable and large, with a population of small stuffed animals.
They’re at home there, and unless bribed they will refuse to move.
None of them are happy that they must share it with me.
They would likely object fiercely to any visitors.
And demand the right of disapproval.
We could sit in the kitchen.
Or the tv room.

I’m keen to accommodate guests, but they have to be people who are very nice.
Balanced, open-minded and trustworthy. And with a sense of humour.
My stuff. My roommate’s stuff. The stuffed creatures’ stuff.
As well as all our safety, security, and privacy.


As the song says:
“No cats no dogs no kids no guitars no cops nor preaching men allowed”.

Rabbis, medical professionals, and co-conspirators, yes.
And possibly in the fullness of time someone else.

I’ll brief the fuzzy creatures beforehand.

[Or we'll cleverly distract them.]

Don't worry - they won't bite


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