Tuesday, December 12, 2023

SEEKING COVER

One image I did not particularly relish this morning was a chin's eye manga view of the cleavage and then downwards of a busty person wearing panties. The perspective was disturbing, and I'm not an aficionado of udders. It was, of course, on Facebook. Aside from the perverse salaciousness of the image, two other things ired me. One (1): It's rather frigid today, dammit, where, WHERE is this person wearing tight scanty undies?! Is she poncing around a well-insulated apartment? A living room with cats and a heater going? The warm kitchen with coffee perkling away and almost ready to pour? Two (2): No face is shown.
So how can I possibly judge her character and personality?

Details are important. So is comfort.
And, as I said, it's cold today.

While outside earlier I did see a young lady wearing short shorts striding up the street, but she was well-insulated despite her glowing bare thighs, and blonde too, so presumably descended from short curvaceous Viking stock disporting themselves in the arctic snow with nary a care. Normal people are not like that. At this time of year, especially in the Midwest, normal people seek to burrow under the covers with a pipe, and cup of coffee or tea on the side table, and one presumes that folks who work in Amazon warehouses, UPS distribution centers, or Piggly Wiggly Supermarkets, have installed beds at their work stations.
If not, why not? Is management being sticky again?
Time for the guillotine!
At present, I am on my second hot beverage. I cannot smoke inside, because my apartment mate has taken a mental health day, so there is minor frustration. She's a nonsmoker, and abjures the smell of burning leaves, so I must head out at some point with a pipe in search of another hot beverage, lunch, and groceries, and either an awning or the warm apartment of a young woman as yet totally imaginary who does not mind the gentle aromas of fine pipe tobacco while, fully and warmly dressed, she's at her desk working on her thesis.

Maybe her cat is fascinated by the middle-aged fossil and his pipe lying under a throw-rug on the couch with a book. Or dozing happily in the crook between his thigh and lower leg.

The glass ashtray on the side table reflects the light from the desklamp.
It remains cold outside. Feels like Norway.



NOTE: The imaginary studious young woman should have interesting books in her living quarters. Possibly clinical psychology or organic chemistry, but definitely also something light and sprightly like crime dramas or murder mysteries. As well as a capacious tea pot. A glass ashtray is not essential, and those are hard to find, spur of the moment. A cat would be nice, but isn't quite necessary either, though nice. What's important is that she have tolerance, a warm spot so to speak, for middle-aged fossils and their pipe smoking.

If anything develops, I can find an ashtray.
One that fits in with the decor.



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