#too sensible

Too sensible,

I am far too sensible.

But then,

Am I not to old

To be wild?

In that way at least.

Bring me a glass of wine

And I will sip

With a book

“Find yourself a good woman, Maxi,” his mother kept telling him when he was young. “That’s the important thing, trust me.”

A couple of decades and three wives later, he still couldn’t see what the fuss was about. Women were very much like bees – they brought about honey, that was true, but most of the time they were only too likely to sting you in the face. All in all the game simply wasn’t worth the candle – which was funny because candles were made of beeswax, or at least some of them were.  

He should tell the boys sometime. Roy would actually laugh at the wax thing, and Chesterfield would make the face, the one that always cracked him up. And Suki – well, she would simply raise her eyebrow as high as she could, which was quite a remarkable feat.

Which reminded him, he seldom thought of his secretary as a woman. Not that she wasn’t one – he had noticed as much, obviously, but that was hardly the point.

Hunting monsters was far more interesting anyway, even if he let the boys do most of the job. They were his favourite cats, all three of them – even Suki – and he hardly needed anything else.

Something that you find fulfilling and at least mildly enjoyable.