I’m reading a book at the moment called ‘The Running Grave’ . Actually I’m listening to it on Audible. What a blessing audible books are.
Anyway, it’s very gripping. It’s about the goings on in a cult.
I’ve not had a lot of experience with cults. I don’t think a cult would tolerate me for too long. I’d either be expelled or locked up in a box until I realised the error of my ways.
It occurred to me, as I gazed across the lawn at the tortoise antics and listened to their bellows, that we are, in fact, housing a cult.
There’s a great deal of free love going on.
Even battered old Tamara is getting her fair share. And honestly, I’ve considered getting her adult diapers.
Incontinence, it appears, is of no consequence. Tamara, the hottie, is rocking it.
I’m considering playing something from Woodstock for them, it seems fitting.
My lovely man, watching this lot, commented ‘inspiring’. And then he gave a little roar.