Our hillbilly family from around the corner are in the habit of collecting animals and then neglecting them. We call this family The Ducks because of their idiosyncratic gait. Usually waddling along the side walk in single file, they look like parade floats on a windy day. Sometimes Carlos, their tabby cat drops by for dinner. He is friendly, polite and well mannered and gets along with our cat Badger. One day I may bring him into the house after a prolonged flea dip and a visit to the vets which is more than I can say for The Ducks.

It's late, later than I had intended to sleep. I should get up. I don't. Last night was... interesting. Throwing a party for an ungrateful friend is always a treat. Let's not do that again. Pulling the covers up over my head, I arch my back and I pretend he's spooning me... I always liked it when he'd pull me close, breathe in my hair. In a strange way, it made me feel as if I had a purpose. Today, my purpose will be cleaning the bathroom. I should get up. He's not actually here, I hate the "pretend game".

What's with being a girl that the society since from ancient times have decided that we should be demure and hygienic. And if we didn't conform to their expectations, they will instantly judged us like we've done something so wrong or at times, disgusting.

Today I became completely conscious of my feet when my boyfriend commented about it. Okay it was dirty, so what's the big deal? I haven't attended into it since I have no time and the luxury of having a foot spa.

His feet were dirty too but he was a boy. and I am a girl.