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Yet another reason why i am in love with neil gaiman
A very small reason this time. Just read this on his blog:
The missing sock has not yet turned up. I am suspicious. How far can it have gone? It was black, you know. Black socks don't just fade into the background. (Not unless the background's black, and the flat I'm in is very light-brown-wooden-floors-and-white. No black anywhere.) And if socks set off to seek their fortune or something, why don't they do it in pairs? Why alert us to their mysteries like this?
-posted by Neil Gaiman 2:45pm
Only Neil. This just made me smile a lot.
The missing sock has not yet turned up. I am suspicious. How far can it have gone? It was black, you know. Black socks don't just fade into the background. (Not unless the background's black, and the flat I'm in is very light-brown-wooden-floors-and-white. No black anywhere.) And if socks set off to seek their fortune or something, why don't they do it in pairs? Why alert us to their mysteries like this?
-posted by Neil Gaiman 2:45pm
Only Neil. This just made me smile a lot.
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I moved. They were still missing . And we cleaned that apartment out completely.
Maybe it's because socks come into creation mated, so eventually they decide they need to strike it out on their own, and one goes off a-journeying.
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Often people come to me and say "As a bestselling author, with many published works to your name, and a basement full of awards, most of them in need of a good polish, you must have some words of advice for the world that you wish to share."
And I do.
It's this.
If you have a 25lb long-haired calico cat whose fur is all matted into evil dreadlocks, and who is too fat to properly clean herself, do not put fresh batteries into an ancient beard-trimmer and attempt to shave her. You will only cause distress to the cat, and create a mess. There are professionals who will happily do this kind of thing, for a small fee. Leave it to them.
(This has been a public service announcement on behalf of Furball the cat, currently believed to be hiding in the attic in a severely traumatised state.)
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I love Neil.