I have no name because nobody ever cared about me long enough to give me one, but she used to call me Marie. I have no idea why ‘Marie’ – perhaps she thought it suited me, or perhaps she thought that it was my name already – she always was a little strange in the head. I hope you don’t think I say that to be nasty and she was the nicest, loveliest sweetest old lady to ever knit sweaters for her grandkiddies but it’s undeniable that she was somewhat dotty. She didn’t even have grandkids. Read the rest of this entry »
