This was new to both of us. I’m not even sure how it landed in the house. We buy the groceries together, so one of us must have picked it up out of curiosity or I’m not sure what and put it in with the rest. I don’t even know what to make of it and its strange wrapping. It smells overly sweet and I’ve never been one for sweet things. Quentin on the other hand, I’ve learned likes things that are just as sweet as he is (yes, I’m corny) though he’s only ever that sweet around me.

So here’s the thing, we have a bar of chocolate in the house. I’ve never had any and just the smell of it alone sets me off in a somewhat bad way. I can’t honestly handle sweet things when it comes to food. Natural sweetness like, I don’t know, strawberries, those aren’t too bad, but don’t try to make me put strawberry jam on my toast, I won’t. I just can’t. I like my oatmeal plain or I’ll make it savoury and put an egg on there, yes I’m aware I’m strange. Quentin, he’ll eat it either with a bit of brown sugar or with a dab of jam. We can’t agree to eat the same thing for breakfast though we usually decide on ‘proper’ meals for the rest of the day. Dessert is all his.

This bar of chocolate though, I’m really not understanding where it came from. We don’t even go anywhere near that area of the store where they put in the sweets and the candies and the rest, well I don’t. I do recall that I went off to get us our milk while he went I’m not sure where, we met back up in the frozen isle. So I guess maybe he could have gotten it but it seems doubtful, he’s looking at it like it was miraculously dropped into our bags by some random stranger.

I guess it doesn’t matter much, though if he’s not going to eat it, we might as well drop it off somewhere, non-perishable foods dropped off for shelters are always welcome, though I don’t know about this, it’s not very filling, it’s more a treat than anything else. Well I’m sure Quentin will figure something out with it.

I’ve been busy planting things up in the garden upstairs. I could call it mine but that wouldn’t really make it so, it’s more our garden really, it sounds right. While I’ve been doing that, Quentin has been planning on what he wants to do with the rest of the first floor. I’ve only seen bits and pieces of the plans but I did see a pool and that will just be awesome. I mean, I’ve never swam before in my life but it could be fun.

Recently, I asked him about, maybe, just maybe, having a cat or two and he said it could be an interesting idea. They’re small, they mostly take care of themselves, just need to feed them and clean up the litter-box and I’m plenty ready to do that, it wouldn’t be much of an issue. There’s still a fair part of the empty floor on the first that has nothing planned for it so maybe after I’m done planting these seeds and these five rose bushes, I’ll head back to my room to scribble down an idea for a cat play room, with shelves leading up to the ceiling and all around at the top with cat trees and the rest.

It’s exhausting work, this whole planting deal. I didn’t imagine it would take so much work to get it all started but it’s good work, it makes me exercise in ways I hadn’t in some time and I think it’s overly good for me. Not that I was getting fat, I’ve always been too thin to begin with and I’ve just started filling out, but I might just be filling out a tiny bit in muscle mass. The emptying of bags of dirt in raised beds, the straightening of the dirt, digging for the plants that I bought already growing, taking care with the bags of seeds to set them out just so. It’s wonderful.

Quentin is talking to himself and I’m not sure I can make out what he’s going on about. He might have eaten his way through that chocolate bar after all and I’m not sure if I should be amused or frightened. I’ve yet to really see him revved up with too much sugar as I’ve seen a couple of times on the streets while I was out there. I guess I should go and look in on him just to make sure he’s not doing anything too crazy, it wouldn’t be quite right.

So everything is put away, carefully, I wash my hands in the little washing closet he’s had set up just a few feet away from the door and I step down the stairs as quietly as I can muster though these stairs are very quiet so I’m not too worried in the end. He’s standing in the living room and I have to be thankful that all of the windows are curtained and those are shut. He’s shirtless. Not so bad at the moment but with how he’s giggling and sort of half-prancing about, I’m thinking the rest of his clothes don’t have long before they’re shed.

I can’t really watch him do that, while it would be amusing, it would also be taking advantage of him. I’ll have to add in chocolate to the list of things to avoid. I know he can’t take pills currently, they knock him out in a bad way though twice during his healing time after he’d lost his sight I gave him some, he was fussing and wouldn’t really rest. The sugar from the chocolate bar seems to be doing the exact opposite. I’m pretty sure it also wasn’t one of those high quality bars I’ve seen in some places, with some sort of percentage dark chocolate or something.

I mean, it’s not because I don’t eat the stuff that I can’t look at it now and again. I’m pretty sure the bar that was brought home was one of those that are essentially pure junk, not in that it was bad way, but that it was just chocolate and sugar and meant to be a sweet rush and all. I guess I might be biased and it’s not even something I can eat. It’s a bit sad in its own way.

He’s moments from getting out of his pants so I turn away and quietly make my way back up the stairs and I go right back to what I’d been doing before I first started hearing him go goofy from the sugar rush. I dig fine little holes and I set in the rose bushes, careful to pat down the dirt around them. I’ll set the watering thingamajig up when I’m done setting them all to the dirt. It waters everything, so I put it on a timer and tada, freshly watered flowers without my having to worry whether or not they had enough or too much. It’s a wonderful sort of things and currently it’s just easier to focus on this than to focus on Quentin downstairs, prancing around naked. I don’t know what to think.


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