LESS THAN PERFECTLY SOCIALIZED

Usually on a day off the grouchy badger firmly shuts his apartment mate's door, opens all the windows for ventilation, and lights up his trusty briar (one of several) as soon as his Cantonese American apartment mate leaves the building. What he reads, in no particular order: Wikipedia, Facebook, The BBC and Reuters, more Wikipedia, Google Translate, Jewish blogs and Chinese food. Plus at least three or four news sites in Dutch.
As well as stuff in German or Chinese.

The tobacco which will be enjoyed is often something with matured Virginia leaf and more often than not a little Perique.
Soul-stirring. Yet subtle.
Civilized.


I assure you it does not smell bad. But Mr. Badger's co-resident is a young lady of delicate sensibilities, and he has been told that if her teddy bear ever ends up whiffing of tobacco smoke, horrible things will happen.

Mr. Badger leaves for a snack or meal in Chinatown around mid-afternoon, which gives the apartment time to air out.


I've learned that one had best not offend Cantonese American women.
The ones who are worth knowing are not wusses.


Everything on my side of our dwelling has a faint perfume of Old Belt, Louisiana, and whisperings of Turk and Syrian. So it's a good thing that she and I are not amorously involved. I have not noticed my stuffed animals reeking of tobacco, but my sensibility is not particularly delicate.



The reason why I mention all of this is because this is a day off. Normally Sunday is one of my work days, but today the world is celebrating Zombie Bunny or National Eggs Benediction or whatever. So I am browsing the internet for news and knowledge. As wells as food and kitten pictures, because one must always make time for food and kittens.

But I cannot smoke.


I will leave for Chinatown somewhat earlier than usual for my teatime.


It is raining outside as I write this. How unfortunate!


I shall lurk in abandoned doorways.

Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice.
Hong Kong style milk tea.
Pipes and tobacco.
Umbrella.

My nickname is not 'Pig Sky', 'Balls', or 'Pongious Old Dude'.
Only the monkey calls me 'Boy-Boy'.

Stuffed animals.




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