Old Woman With 25 Cats

My children think it’s unsanitary, want me to give them up, want to have me declared non compos mentis. My children are young and don’t know beans. Wait till their skin turns to taffeta and their veins to a knot of worms. Just wait, dears, till you’re a blight to look at, a bore to talk to and you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have someone touch you for pleasure. Let me tell you, lambs, when you reach that point you’ll love what lets you touch it.