Hello Sophie

Sophie has been at the Ohio Redoubt and tonight she came back to do an intervention because the guys and I have just let everyond flop around on sofas and pillows – even Rose. Gone to pot is how she is describing us here. And we are not protesting. She will probably send us to motivational boot camp – notice she is wearing the sneakers of persuasion.

I sit here with a sore butt from mowing and a sinus headache and I just know she is going to tell me to pull myself up by my boot straps. I will let her know I am not wearing boots and she will tell me to pull myself up by my laces and I will tell you I don’t have laces. Then, as she becomes exasperated she will tell me to pull myself up by the velcro and I will reply I don’t have velcro – I have elastic fake laces and only have to shove my feet in my shoes. She will probably whack me up side the head with her sneaker. It’s one of her techniques.

Rose will probably take all this in and then add in a bemused voice, “Gee, Sophie, I think my boots are painted on.” Just joking; it’s not like Rose is a rag doll.

Oh dear. Rose, that was in bad taste and I’m sorry, really. In fact, Rose, this post never happened. You did not read it. You hallucinated; your temperature was high . . . because I ironed you. Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

Oh, God, what has gotten into me?