One cannot smoke inside, have sex, or take a nice long hot bath.
On the other hand, one can have conversation, watch trash teevee, and play with the stuffed animals. So it all works out.
Sex would be out of the question even if the apartment mate weren't home, as it really does take two to tango.
But the long hot bath is a marvelous way to keep the feet warm in the middle of winter. And one would love to stink-up the place with a nice Virginia-Perique mixture. Again, warmth is a key element.
I suppose warmth is also a key element in sex, what with cuddling and silky skin and all that, but unless one is extremely casual, that is not really a likely expectation. I am considerably more openminded about other people as smoking companions -- heck, I even tolerate cigar smokers, for heavens sakes -- than I am about potential bedmates. In fact, finding a bedmate is something that I do not pursue. I've got books on the bed. And magazines. A dozen stuffed animals, including two Totoros. Several tins of tobacco. Bills, circulars, and correspondence. And other stuff.
A large bed is quite suitable as a small den or home office.
My bed is my file cabinet.
The average woman may look askance at a bed which doubles as a library or file cabinet. And Totoro would disapprove of the average woman. Totoros appreciate unique individuals only.
So sex is right out. None of that.
[Look, ALL men should have at least one Totoro in their lives. A man who cannot appreciate the company of a small rotund Japanese forest-troll is probably a humourless twat, and may very well be a cigar-chomping lawyer or real-estate speculator. Totoro is a quality of life issue. Very important. File cabinets are not nearly as important, except if you're a cigar-chomping lawyer or real-estate mogul. In which case, you probably don't know Totoro. And are probably a dickhead.]
Unless one can find someone who likes the same things, and has a similar life-style. Books and beasts on the bed, a taste for messiness, or rather, a casual approach to housekeeping, coupled with a keen approach to comfort. Plus a thing for briars and tobacco.
An appreciation of hot tea on cold days.
Talent for ablutionary indolence.
Feet needing warmth.
Totorismo!
I suspect that my apartment mate will occupy the teevee room all day (both computers are there), accompanied by the sweet little she-sheep, at least one Totoro, a large purple cat, and a teddy bear.
Plus the control monkey; he likes the bear.
It will likely be very noisy.
Good thing it's not raining. There's nothing nicer than cuddling under the comforter amid the detritus, in the gloom of an unlit apartment, while listening to the drubbing of the downpour outside.
Twenty toes.
Only stirring from one's comfy file cabinet to make a cup of tea.
One must have tea; even Totoros like it.
It's a way of bribing them.
In a short while I shall put on several layers of clothing, and go freeze my but off outside, with a spicy blonde mixture in my pipe. Despite my thick arctic overcoat, I shall pretend that it is summer, and gay young things in bikinis are cavorting past me on the way to the surf.
Gilligan, drop those coconuts!
Might even head across the hill for milk-tea.
AFTERTHOUGHT
Life with two Totoros presents unique challenges. At night I can hear them making absurd suggestions to the other stuffed critters, or happily exclaiming "oh boy, socks!" The fact that they are happy rooting around in my clean laundry, or speculating about the pretty little she-sheep with the pink bows who lives in the other room, should, I suppose, add light and joy to my life. And to a certain extent it does. But I'm worried about their plans to turn the tins of Escudo and Three Nuns into frisbies. That strikes me as an unnecessarily cavalier attitude toward my belongings.
Especially my pipe tobacco! That's some darn fine stuff!
And having them claim my best undershirts for ghost-make-believe, to terrorize the other small individuals (who are very suggestible) is not a nice thing to do. Those are MY undershirts!
Terrorize them some other way!
And no frisbees!
At present, both Totoros are perched upon a stack of books at the end of the bed. They look out happily on all they survey, and have concluded that except for such times as I am within the sheets, it is their domain.
Hah! They'll be SO upset if another person invades!
They'll will be exiled to the teevee room.
To prevent them rioting.
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6 comments:
What's the whole story of your affair with cigarettes? You've mentioned that you used to be into them back in the 1990s. What got you interested in starting them, and what got you interested in stopping? Did you find it at all hard to stop, or were you completely satisfied with the nicotine in your cigarillos and pipe tobacco?
Don't you usually respond to comments?
Yes, often I do. Not always. And not necessarily immediately.
Cigarettes were the easy fix back when you could still smoke in offices. That is what got me started. But there is little satisfaction there other than stopping withdrawal symptoms, and no flavour that is worthwhile in most brands and types.
Turkish cigarettes are a possible exception.
Well, to each their own, I suppose. As you know, I love cigarettes, and don't go a single waking moment without one, aside from very brief breaks to eat. How do you find cigarillos different from cigarettes? Aren't they essentially the same?
If a beautiful lady bought you a pack of Turkish cigarettes as a gift, would you smoke them?
Nope. Firstly, I have access to Turkish tobacco cut for cigarettes already, secondly, if she knew me, she'd realize that I'm a pipe smoker.
I would accept them out of politeness, and appreciate the spirit in which they were given.
Somewhere in this apartment I still have a pack of ciggies. Can't remember where.
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