bad concience and foxy

I don’t know what it is, except that maybe because it’s the end of summer, but the Dedes are in total disarray…

Remember when Devil threw a wobbly last week? Foxy Lady was obviously a bit aggressive towards him. She is a staunch feminist and can’t stand it when the other gender gets too cocky.

Bad Conscience was sidling around all weekend offering his services to both squabblers. That’s what he does… He goes around and looks for a disagreement of some sort somewhere. He offers his help and moves in with whoever lets him in. Once he has made himself comfortable in a corner of your house, preferably the darkest one, he forgets his promise to help and  just sits there and expects to be fed. He has lived with me for a while and, gee, it is difficult to move him on. You have to make a big effort to virtually throw him out. He is one of those who doesn’t know when he has outstayed his welcome. He never leaves of his own accord. Sorry, I am digressing. You certainly know the chap anyway.

Neither Devil nor Foxy Lady have taken Bad Conscience in yet. And I actually wanted to talk to them to see if I can help. But then L’Artiste popped in unexpectedly on Saturday morning. He was really, and I mean really, depressed! We had breakfast together and he moaned and groaned. In the end I said: “To be honest, we only have two options. Either we hang around and we are all depressed for the rest of the weekend or we do some new work. What’s it going to be?”

You know what he opted for. The result is in the previous post. It was an impromptu. L’Artiste just wanted to tell his story. In the end he admitted in secret (so please keep mum about it) that it felt so refreshingly good to have  a hearty cry. I picked up his tunic and will keep it for him until he is ready to put it on again.