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[personal profile] paraxeni
 Picture it.  2009, 8am, you've been asleep for 2 hours.  Suddenly your mad, blue-haired girlfriend shakes you awake.  "Lisa, LISA!!  Take it, you have him, take him away I can't cope... mumble mumble... Bagpuss.  BAGPUSS IS A SLUTPIPE!".  She shoves the stuffed pink and white Bagpuss into your hands, pats him on the head, then you, and turns over muttering about 'cat slags'.

Welcome to Lisa's world.

She told me about it, after we were rudely awakened by the Postie.  She came back to bed and said "Here's Bagpuss back, he misses you"   I demanded to know what she was doing with him, and when she told me I starting laughing so hard that I went blue.  I went for a wee, and just sat there giggling hysterically with the rabbits peering quizzically through their gate.  "Why is fat mam out of bed so early?  Why is she squeaking?  Where are the Bunny Burgers?". 

  Now like many of my brain-damaged compatriots if I'm laughing I can't do anything else.  People have done things for the last 12 years or so, like waiting till I'm crossing a road or halfway up some stairs before shouting something that they lknow will induce giggles, and paralyse me on the spot, usually making me fall down in the process   All I can do while I laugh is lie, flapping my arms and gasping for breath.  Lisa claims I'm "Attempting to communicate with the Mothership" and says "Yip yip Mothership, come in Mothership" which increases the hysteria, the flapping and the paralysis.  So imagine, if you can, me trying to stagger up two steps and along the landing while laughing about what I'd done.  By the time I fell back into bed I could do nothing but lie there wheezing and screeching with tears streaming down my face.  It took an hour to get back to sleep because every time I looked up I saw Bagpuss, which set me off again.

 I do not make a habit of acquiring stuffed toys, but a) Bagpuss is a legend and b) his gob is the perfect size for my factory-grade foam earplugs.  He holds them for me through the day, then spits then into my hand before sleep time to drown out the ginger one's elephantine snoring.  My snores are probably worse, but they don't wake me up like hers do.  She also chunters incessantly, types on my back in her sleep, and reels off talk-plans.  It's safer for her if I can't hear her, a sleep-deprived blue-haired loon is not a pretty sight at all.

 Oh, and remember the man that came to put in a drive, dug up the garden and left without finishing?  Well the garden was Lisa's pride and joy, and she's been incredibly depressed and ashamed about the state of it, even though it wasn't her fault.   Yesterday at 9am the landlord removed all of our trees, plants and bushes, the fences, oh and quite a bit of gardening kit grr.  However, one half of the garden is now gravelled and marked out awaiting concrete, the other half is being levellled, and there's a new fence.    Would've been nice to have notice, but that's how he works.  Means we'll need to buy new roses and stuff, but it'll be a vast improvement on the lumpy, misshapen, hard to mow 1920's style layout we had before.  The path's being widened for my chair, and with the car on the drive the insurance will go down.  Woohoo.  Well done landlord, it only took you 4 years after all!
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