So owing to thinking over long periods about my chronological age. I made the wise and informed (I think) decision to give up my nomadic lifestyle and settle down(this in no way involves a man, child or dog)
To this end I went couch shopping, kindly avoid asking me where my old couch went or whether it existed… you might embarrass me and I dont handle any emotion well. To make everything clear to you I need to inform you that I live very close to the mount Kenya forest which of course means no Furniture Palace (the shop not a king’s house with lots kof chairs). See now the local Furniture palace does not really have a name nor is it in a building, sort of an outdoor ambience thing going on. But the proprietor, an averagely delightful fellow in a felt hat or used to be felt hat, is very girly if you are into that kinda thing. Well am not because I am very cave-womany(no story). After much haggling and blushes by the carpenter ( of course these were the price ain’t changing blushes) we came to a sulky agreement and I paid the deposit.
My settling down self fantasied
about how settled down we were all gonna look. So today after a hard days work I was looking forward to couch collecting and settling down on feeling accomplished also taking a picture to go with this. So I collect couch, I was already toying with Isabella as couch’s name.
But now couch wouldn’t fit in the door of my village condo (its not round)
And I have eaten six bananas to deal with the stress, I cant decide “do I tear the door or remove couch legs, do I move out and find a house with an elastic door… tent maybe, but what about the local wildlife ”
I need another banana.
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