Well, papa went down to a tiny bar near this lovely place we are in to ask if he could watch the Roma/Bayern game, and the owner, Gianluca, said, well, you can have the table upstairs in front of the TV in the little dining room of the bar, and papa asked, “But won’t we be disturbing the clients?” And Gianluca exclaimed, “Oh, no, they may be bothering you, because they are romanisti.”
That guy thought papa was a BAYERN fan!!! Oh, boy. So here we go, papa, and I hope it’s not another blood bath. FORZA, ROMA (whatever that means…everyone is saying it but do I know anything? NO.)
So papa says, “Are you kidding, I’m a romanista“, at which point, Gianluca, who had been giving Don the “lei”, which is the formal Italian address, threw his arms around papa and started using the “tu”, which is the very familiar form of address and said, “AHHHH, you’re a romanista–of course you can bring anyone you wish and we’ll set up a table and yes, there will be things to eat and welcome, welcome!”
So guess what? All these anthros are traipsing down to the little bar (about 50 feet from here) and leaving me ALONE again upstairs while they cheer for the Roma and the kitty downstairs, that Neve cat, sits on her little cutsey-pootsey stool chair and meows in the most amazing way I have ever heard a cat meow (I can hear her all the way up here) and everyone coos and coos over her weird little ears and her funny voice and she has ALL the attention and I’m sitting here just waiting for someone to come and snuggle me NOW.
SEE WHAT I MEAN!!!
If I was there, I would keep you company!
Well, the funny thing is, the room was so interesting that I almost forgot I was alone! But I would have LOVED your company.