Monday, February 19, 2018


So it turns out that last nights frigid temperature is what we can expect all week. When I went outside to smoke a pipe I was wearing a coat, two sweaters, a shirt, and an undershirt. And I was miserable. If you, dear reader, had been a very cute woman holding on to me lustfully, you would have had a most boring time.

I would have informed you that I wasn't taking a damned thing off. No, not interested in naughty business. We can cuddle under the covers wearing multiple layers of clothing, no need to get naked.

[To the tune of 'Badger, Badger, Badger': "Grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble; puff puff, puff puff; grumble grumble, grumble ...."]

Pipe not quite enjoyable, under those conditions.

The pleasure of a bad habit is considerably diminished when there are no easily triggered people around to hideously offend, and your hot beverage and a shot of Scotch whisky are INSIDE, on the kitchen counter.

The next seven days are going to be like this.

With a distinct possibility of rain.

Didn't finish the bowl.

Too damned cold.

If I have to suffer, all of you non-smokers should too.
Kindly slap yourselves.

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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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