Madame decided to make a start on the spring cleaning. A dangerous time for small cloth animals. One false move and it's the *shudder* Charity Shop Bag *scream*.
It can happen accidentally. A certain bear of my acquaintance had to be rescued from a jumble sale stall after she fell asleep in the wrong pile of clothes.
But you don't want to be drawing attention to yourself because then the "Oh, poor little thing. Maybe you should go the charity shop and then someone will buy you and love you" can happen. That's the stuffie equivalent of "it's not you, it's me". What it means is "Vile bag of stuffing - gathering dust and taking up valuable space that I could fill with shoes - into the Rag Bag of Doom".
Luckily Madame has been trying to go easy this year and we had a nice break from the chaos so we could watch Rome. We love Rome. They might have taken a few liberties with the history but don't think old Suetonius would have been too bothered. Makes a good companion piece for his Twelve Caesars - an entertaining romp with enough details to tickle the brain. And lots of naughty humans to amuse small bears.
Of course Madame likes to imagine that she would have been a Vestal Virgin when we all know that she would have been a scuzzy little Celtic slave. Don't know about me. Wouldn't have lasted long if they expected me to fight gladiators and eat Christians in the Colosseum. Yuk. No. Maybe a small temple with me on a plinth. Attended by lovely handmaids and fragrant slave boys. Gold offering. Sweet incense. Silk cushions.
I'm off to see if I can build myself a time machine.