Thursday, January 11, 2018


She had woken me to inquire about the collection of slug-like things in the bathroom. And of course I had no clue, so she explained that it was the dark blobby things overhanging the bath tub rim, looking evil.
"Oh! Those are my socks! They're drying."

Very well. Socks.

"Crazy white man does socks in tub. Well, at least he is interested in pedal garment cleanliness. We weren't sure. For a while we thought that he was competing for Hong Kong foot king title. Then there was that layer of dust, which he claimed was footpowder, but was probably both a preservative, and a fertilizer for bloodsucking foot zombies. Socks. Clean socks."

"Good monkey! He's learning civilization!"

As you can tell, my apartment mate has a talent for gentle sarcasm.

That's why we live together. Another white person of the all-American normal Caucasian type, male or female, would have started wailing about recycling, dolphins, Trump, gluten, and "I'm a Vegan, for crapsake!"
My apartment mate is Cantonese, and not so neurotic.
I am not neurotic at all.
I'm Dutch.

It's a pity she has a boyfriend -- somebody of Russian Jewish derivation, who is neurotic -- otherwise I might consider asking her out.
She'd probably be fun to eat with.

This evening I gravely informed her that the slug convention had moved to my room, they would no longer be spying on her while she bathed.
Their little black beady eyes had seen enough.

My socks are slightly pervy.
But they have taste.

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