On Monkeys and noses

I know no one can probably relate to this, aside from my sister, but I have this weird…quirk. You might say. Some people worry about the world ending, others worry about the water supply ending…me (and my sister)? I worry about my stuffed animals being uncomfortable…or not liking their “partner” or perhaps getting a back ache from sitting too long…but the one thing that worries me the most – is keeping their noses clear.

Hear me out.

Having stuffed animals is not for the weak. Or the busy, apparently.

My sister and I used to have LOADS of animals on our beds. Im talking probably 20 animals apiece. And every night we would have to arrange them – just so – to make sure of a number of things. A) They were ok with who they were sitting by. B) That they looked comfortable and finally…most importantly, perhaps…is that they could “breath” even tho logically…stuffed animals DON’T breath. We could not, go to sleep at night, and sleep well, if their noses were covered.

When we got older – we decided to do without the animals. Too much work. Too much effort. Too little sleep. So the animals were bagged up, and sent to the closet. Of course…the bag….had holes – so you know – they could breath!! That pretty much defeated the point of putting them in a bag to begin with, but hey, atleast they could breath.

I tried reintroducing animals to my bed, but it became increasingly difficult to please them all. Rabbit wanted to be with rabbit – but not with bear, who wanted to be with the other bear, and the other rabbit…and…oh my…the nose issue!!!

They were all quickly banished from my bed…and once again, I could sleep at night.

All was well in the animal world, until this Valentines day.

My sister gifted me a pink monkey, who made his appearance here a few weeks ago.

The problem is, his arms are too long to look comfortable.

She hung him (by his arms) on my wall – where he stayed for a good portion of the day. Until he looked…tired…tired of hanging by his long arms. So I took him down, arranged him on my desk, and left him be. Until today. When his beady eyes started to penetrate through me. They seemed to be saying “Let me go” and I caved. I picked him up…and then…didn’t know what to do.

So I rearranged things…and set him back down. But his arms were tangled, and his legs – which are equally as long…were tangled too. So I stuck him in a bucket, but that looked painful. You know, sitting in a bucket with your legs straight up…cant be easy on the back!

So I piled some stuff in the bottom and set him in there…rearranging his legs and arms…

I spent a good five minutes with him, finally getting him into a position that looked ½ way stand-able…

But now I have a problem.

Monkey?

He likes to stare.

And he stares. At me. All day. Every day. Smiling. While his {extra} long arms stay wrapped around the handles of his bucket, clinging tightly to his note.

He seems content. Content as a hot pink monkey could be, content with his job of holding his paper heart = reminding me with every look that someone loves me. But the eyes. The eyes have got to go. I can deal with noses. But I don’t like staring.