SCENES OF OTTER MADNESS

My apartment mate is reading about otters and muttering in Russian. Well, something that souns like Russian. These are highly trainable otters. I'm in the teevee room in front of my computer, she's reading something written by an English person in her room next door.


Why is she up this early?


Oh good. Now she's arguing with the turkey vulture in the voice of the one-legged monkey. So we have a Russian dude from the book, disobedient otters, a turkey vulture going on about fatty inner thighs, and an indignant gibbon in there.

It sounds quite noisy, I shall not enter.
Sanity depends on staying out.

You know, when I wake up in the morning I need caffeine to start sparky synapses.
She's highly functioning without a single drop of coffee.

I also wish to smoke my pipe.

Outside, in the cool and dark, with no slithe otters, birds of carrion, and sternly critical remonstrantive tree-dwellers around, because at this early hour I really am not highly functioning or even conversational.

So far this morning my functioning has not been 'highly', but merely 'barely'. Woke up from a dream featuring a non-existent teenage female relative who had finished reading both the biology textbook (meant to last all the way through high school) and the chemistry textbook (ditto) and was keen to "borrow" anything scientific in my library, and a cat sleeping on top of the reference books in a shaft of moonlight who did not want to be disturbed. Having put on the water for coffee I took my pills and went into the bathroom.

I have strung together one or two sentences and been "social".
One cannot expect anything more for a while.
It gets no better than this.

I do not wish to contemplate otters yet.
Good morning.



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