Catching Up Over Burritos

The Professor took me to lunch over to Qdoba, which is slowly growing on me, I must confess. She wanted to explain the many ways that having 57 lovers has taxed her lately. Seeing her limping towards me made me slightly concerned that they were taxing her physically as well as psychologically, but it turns out that she's fucked up her ankles yet again*. How bad was it? I was so distressed to see her in so much pain** that I threatened to email her brother and get her mom involved. Sadly, for me, as I was waiting for her, I came to realize that the days of wearing the orange jacket are over until spring. I'll have to empty my pockets and fill up the pockets of the blue coat instead. And, even more sadly, the blue coat has no pocket for my screwdriver, so I will have to leave that in the orange jacket. As we were eating, the subject of the Butcher came up and she asked me if he'd even bothered to clean the house. I said that when I got home it was so surprisingly clean that I wondered if he'd had a girl over. And then, I saw on the end table the reason for the cleanliness--a contraption so exquisite that I was almost moved to touch it. I will not tell you what it is, but you've been reading long enough to guess what could be so special to the Butcher that he would feel the need to make the house ready for it. Anyway, we have a bunch of apple tobacco in the freezer, so maybe that will finally get used up. *Just due to falling down, not due to the rigors of kicking the shit out of the patriarchy. **Though, for some reason, her hair looked spectacularly cute today.