STINK LEAKS

At three o'clock in the morning your senses are focused, your eyes are sharpened, and your intellect is working on all eight cylinders. You know what you want out of life. What you don't want is conversation with the intoxicated fellows outside a neighborhood bar. They are worse than you (and not making sense in both English and Spanish). The bum looking for buts, coins, and the meaning of life underneath a Tesla parked on the corner is not better conversation either. The mumblesome personage perched upon the fire hydrant is right out.

What you want is a cheap stogie in the kitchen. You left the house after a nap at around one o'clock, with two pipes, only one of which you smoked, and you returned after one drink and a conversation with four people.
A middle-aged female doctor and her fluffy dog.
A bartender pissed at Europeans.
A bald black barman.

And a tightly wound woman with 'problems'.


Coffee grounds, panax noto-ginseng, dry ginger powder.
A little cheap Scotch in the cup for a base.
Boiling water with sugar.

And a horrid cigar.


Right out, totally dis-advised, would be any leakage of the fumes from the kitchen, because your apartment mate, asleep in her room, does not smoke cigars, or anything at all, and needs to go to work tomorrow morning.

We aren't romantically involved, but we value each other. So there have been no visitations at night by people of either appropriately opposite genders. Nor daytime visits, but that is for different reasons. She doesn't indulge in liquor, neither of us do drugs, and pot nauseates both of us.
Plus the stuffed animals (hers and mine) seriously disapprove of scandalous behaviour.

I've often thought of scandalous behaviour.

A female person, of diplomatic speech and gentlemanly standards, who understood that furry creatures need to be dealt with courteously but never the less firmly, and has an understanding of their needs and their limited worldliness. Contradictorily, gentle and lady-like.
Fuzzballs are rather "pre-occupied".
With tunnel-vision.

Anybody who visited at any time would necessarily be someone who would leave a good impression on the Teddy Bear (Ms. Bruin) who is the head roomie, her assistant the she-sheep, and both the one-legged monkey
(a gibbon) and the purple cat.
Someone nice.

[She's not actually purple, but some other colour of which I cannot remember the name right now, but it's an important distinction. She's sensitive about it.]


At three o'clock in the morning you want NO leakage of fumes from your cigar near the open window into the rest of the apartment.
Too many people would be disturbed.




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================