Monday, March 25, 2019

THE IDIOSYNCRATIC WITNESS

If you were to look at my bed right now, it would tell you several things about me. Voracious reader, tobacco maven, likes stuffed animals (who move around at times), irregular correspondent. Masculine. Bachelor.

The books and a few magazines testify to the literacy. The stuffed animals, in their various positions atop the left side pile of stuff, clearly have rowdy and active lives. The empty cigar boxes (decorative in their mute testimony) and the tobacco tins (full, but I cannot find several of them) indicate both that the bed owner enjoys tobacco, and suggest strongly that it is a 'he'.
If I were a woman, the cigar boxes might not be there.
Probably no tins of pipe tobacco either.

Females do not smoke pipes. Generally speaking.
However they could collect cigar boxes.
It's not that unusual.


One woman pipe smoker whom I knew years ago kept her bed neurotically tidy, crisply made shortly after getting up. Though I saw her pipe collection, and her library, I never saw her bed undone. There was one stuffed animal. Fiercely guarding the place.

You could not tell whether she was single or involved with someone from seeing her chamber. It was very neat.

The fact that I've got a book depository and all that other stuff there indicates, abundantly, my single status. As do the several creatures, because naturally one would have to move them into the teevee room otherwise.
Out of a sense of delicacy and a desire for privacy.
They are easily over-excited.




One of my friends has books in his room, no stuffed animals that I know of. And no empty cigar boxes, or pipe tobacco tins at all. He's a non-smoker.
And not into stuffed animals, which is odd. Quite sane otherwise.


Five of the tins of tobacco are Samuel Gawith.
But I can only find two of them.


No snowshoes.



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