Unravelled Read Online Free PDF Page A

impeccable and I must admit having had difficulty ruining the scene from a decorating magazine by getting into bed. An Olympic-size swimming pool separates the cottage from the house. Mr Wall Street not only looks like money, but he also obviously has it. In bundles.
    I unpacked last night while Blossom sniffed out a comfortable corner and collapsed – with an unsurprising loud fart – in it. I left him there while I soaked myself in the largest tub I’ve ever been in. I did feel a bit guilty for adding to global warming by using so much water, but my need to wash the day off me with as much water and bubbles as possible was stronger than my desire to save the planet. My feet started itching and my fingers looked like shrivelled-up prunes by the time I decided it was time to vacate the bathroom.
    Wrapped in a soft big white towel, which reminded me of those lovely towels in a luxury hotel I stayed in once, I went on an exploration expedition. The cottage didn’t render anything particularly interesting, but I discovered a coffee machine in the kitchen that I know will become my best friend. Holding my towel with one hand (I can never keep a towel wrapped around my body, it always slips), I plodded through the living area and sank into a coffee-coloured couch and sighed with unbridled pleasure. This cottage was designed for optimum comfort and visual pleasure.
    I played a bit with the remote control, but decided that I had enough adventures for one day when I pressed a button and the sound system came to life with top volume rap music. I got such a fright when the rapper told me he what he wanted to do with my unmentionables, that I pressed the top right hand button (in my experience, the universal on/off button) and called it a night. I made sure Blossom was still in the corner of my bedroom, but I shouldn’t have bothered. He hadn’t moved one inch. Poor darling must have been so tired from the day’s adventures. I didn’t even bother with pyjamas and got in bed with a happy sigh. Blossom responded to this with another kind of air escaping his bottom and I sighed an unhappy sigh before I fell into a dead slumber.
    He woke me this morning when nature called him outside and I sleepily let him out after putting on an old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. This is one thing that not Erin, not Juan and not any boyfriend I ever had could convince me to change. I need to sleep comfortably and I will not compromise on my pyjamas.
    It was the ferocious barking that made me stick my bed-head out the door to locate Blossom. He was standing at the fence in his I-want-to-make-friends posture with a Chihuahua working itself towards a stroke. Poor Blossom can’t count on animal behaviour analysis as one of his strong points – he was trying to make friends with the spawn of the devil. Bed-headed and dressed in my pj’s I then approached the scene to help Blossom cope with the inevitable rejection. It was at that moment that a vision of curlers and flowers came bearing down on us.
    The Chihuahua inherited its piercing voice from its owner – if that is at all possible. Dressed in a floral house dress which did nothing for her autumn complexion, and purple-red hair wrapped around colourful curlers, she seemed a natural disaster in human form.
    We’ve now spent a very unproductive five minutes with me trying to tell her that Blossom wants to make friends and her squealing at me to control the ‘beast’. Why everyone insists on bestowing upon Blossom adjectives fit for ogres in fairy tales is beyond me. Has no one seen Shrek? He’s an adorable ogre.
    I watch with morbid fascination how the talking causes Mrs Flower’s third chin to have a ripple effect which seems to vibrate all the way down to the hem of her floral house dress.
    It’s taken all this time for Mr Wall Street to cross the manicured lawn-slash-park. A concerted effort is required of me to not stare and drool over his oh-so-very-touchable naked torso. I’ve already seen