MATURE MEN AND COLD WEATHER

It's finally happened. My apartment mate's teddy bear has lost her marbles. For over a week now, she has been exclaiming "must kill, must kill", in a crazy obsessive tone. And, sadly, it is my apartment mate's fault; she has been spending way too much time with her boyfriend, totally neglecting the teddy bear who is her oldest friend in the world.

In order to maintain a semblance of peace and sanity in the apartment, the senior teddy bear has been staying over on my side, along with the control monkey -- a very nice bloke -- and the she-sheep with the little pink bows has taken over as head-roomie. It's all rather disturbing. Unnerving, even.


You heard it here first: middle-aged women with boyfriends are trouble.
Quite unlike middle-aged men with no love-interests whatsoever.
WE are quite normal. Refreshingly so. No neuroses at all.
And I am the very epitome of mental stability.


It's been rather interfering with my smoking habits. The cardinal rule is that the senior teddy bear should never EVER smell sooty, or have even the merest whiff of tobacco funk clinging to her. All hell will break loose if that happens. So I cannot fume indoors as much as I would like, and it's a little too chilly outside at times to toddle on out in my jammies for a leisurely pipeful around the block. Consequently I have been hiding in the kitchen a lot, fixing myself cups of warm milk-tea while puffing on my briars.

It's a bit lonely in there by myself.


If someone with a nice stuffed bunny were to offer me sanctuary, I would not say no. But the crucial thing is that neither she nor her bunny should object to the smell of a pipe. At least not too much.
Oh, and both of them have to be utterly sane.

This blogger craves normalcy.




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