Robert Robus on hermitude

While I, Robert Robus, was in my youth an exceedingly social personage, in recent decades I have settled into a state of increasing isolation. While I don't know precisely how (or hwy) this has happened, somehow it has come about that I, once a paragon of panache and social graces, now rarely leave my abode.

Although of course I am roundly criticized for this development, in recent months I, Robert Robus, have learned to enjoy the strange pleasures that come with hermitude. I have found, for example, that, contrary to what my Aunt Clancy might have led me to believe in years past, I like drinking milk right from the bottle. I have also decided that I like to lodge walnuts between my toes, and later to augment them with Craisins. I have also decided I like wisky; and I drink that potent substance accordingly.

I have also decided I like Latin; I study it with a pertinacious assiduity rarely glimpsed in cybercomedians. Yet, despite my many hours spent poring over Wheelock in the wee hours of the night, and reading Latin-English/English-Latin dictionaries as if they were the Aeneid, I seem to have only impressed upon my cortex one verb: bibo, bibere, bibi (Latin for 'hitting the sauce').

At any rate, over the course of the past few months I have digressed into such a state of hermitude that I have temporarily lost my sense of vision. How do I know this, you ask? For I, Robert Robus, cannot see a thing! Ahnd...OW! OW! OW! Terrible place to put a coat rack; execrable milieu in which to deposit a rollerskate; egregious locality in the confines of which to ensconce a life-sized, robotic replica of Sammy Sosa swinging a bat at far too low a level! I must say, it's really quite lousiferous to be blind, and...

Hey! A light switch! (Flips it.) I can see; I can see! I have not lost my precious vision due to hermitude; it was merely a passing illusion! (Taking on a smug assurance the which is astonishing chiefly in the repentine nature of such assurance:)--Ahnd so, that great mystery resolved, I shall now proceed to the stovetop to prepare myself some pasta. I'll leave further discussions of hermitude for when Tartar has returned from the hardware store; for he, as much as I, is a seasoned expert in hermitude, I assure you. Until then, farewell!