'Mini' Momhood!

I'm a Mini Mum! I'm so excited!

Not too long ago, a friend sent me a letter with lots of confetti in it which split open at the bottom and littered the post office, my box, and the hall with sparkly pieces of plasticy type stuff that sticks to everything. I still have some of that stuff in my box. I thought that would be the worst of my post-office-oops moments. When I arrived at the post office (after receiving a rather terse e-mail requesting I pick up my package 'yesterday'), the mail-lady was standing at one side of the office glowering at the smoking box on the other side, from which the slightly off-key strains of 'A Whiter Shade of Pale' were issuing. Needless to say, I'm not on the favorites list of the post workers at this moment. Having flame-y beings shipped to places whose business consists of the collection and distribution of highly flammable materials does not endear you to the staff.

heoden arrived earlier than I had expected, so I was short on bacon. He was a bit shy at first (took three tries to get him out of the crate, little dear was clinging to the sides) but he, ah, warmed up to me quickly enough. Before too long he'd made himself quite a nest under my bed. How he gets in and out without scorching the sheets or setting the whole thing on fire, I haven't the faintest idea. Startled my roommate the other night when she walked past my door and noticed a "scary looking glow" under the bed, but other than that, no worries.

There was a bit of a fluff when heoden first accompanied me to class. Apparently having a small, demonic, fiery being in the room puts somewhat of a damper on the learning experience. Something about a distraction and highly flammable classrooms or some nonesense such as that. It's all been settled though. I have an odd feeling that heoden may have "had a talk" with some teachers and administrators, as the Dean gave me a look just short of terror the other day and crossed to the other side of the Quad to avoid me. Then again, it might have been the sight of heoden hanging from the branches of the nearest oak tree with a squirrel dangling from his fingers (talons? claws? paws?). Ah, well.

To my surprise and joy, heoden appears to be a burgeoning poet. Owing no doubt to the spelling of his name, heoden's poetry tends to follow the same style as e e cummings' works. He is also obsessed with the horses on campus. Go figure, eh?

I've discovered that he likes my fish, Sanford, and my plants, the Fabulous Four, but that he does not like our coffee table or the bushes outside my apartment building. Nor will he accompany me into the dining hall on campus, despite promises of bacon, raw eggs, and ranch dressing (for which he has an inexplicable love).

That's about it for now. Any other quirks I discover, I will most certainly share!

P.S. Thanks to misscam for heoden. He's such a sweetie!