Wilma

Tis harder for me to shimmy the window to pen these days, as it is often closed due to an administrative life maelstrom. I hate having no window openings, it makes me feel like i'm actually working. Stuffy. Gone are the days when i could casually swan about, swaying from department to lift, spreading my love and hate equally amongst the fellow ranks. No more naked toilet time. A chapter closed or just freudian repression? Only time will tell. Maybe i will get naked more in my social life...Of which i hear are the meetings of God, when ones eyes are truely shown, these moments help to comfort the amour of present and help to drop armour of the green heart, a messy buisness of which no-one likes.

So, any plans for the weekend??

"Ha!" she scoffs, that we not talk of such, not in this ivory tower of ours. No, no, we shall discuss the merits of the ivory. How it was fashioned from that elephant. You know the one, the one in the room that the more observant social poachers plundered. Damn their condescending blunderbusses...

Well the hunt horn sounds in true flintstones fashion and it is with that i shall shout yabber dabber do, slide down th ol brontosaurus tale and make merry.

I miss my Wilma