Chester: Meet Mab

Have you ever known one of those people who have probably twice as many books as they do bookshelves? Take that effect and use it on books, crafting supplies, random occult knickknacks, and general stuff and you might be able to imagine visiting Mab's home. She is a goddess of the thrift store and just always seems to happen to have something that will work for whatever project you are working on. Assuming that she can find it, of course. Which is where I find myself today, looking through a bookshelf, constantly being distracted by one thing or another, while I look for that book on epic poetry that we both swear we saw just last week.
"Huh, Japanese Gardens. Pretty," I say, looking over pictures.
"Yeah, I think I might have gotten that one for a decoupage project. I forget. How about The Nibelungenlied, that IS an epic?" says Mab.
"Which one is that?"
"The German epic."
"Ah. Yeah. Not quite what I'm after. Bah," and I retreat to flop on a patch of clear floor, "It's not that important anyway. Just a whim" I say.
Mab shuffles through things a moment longer, then crosses over to the couch to resume work on an afghan. She has gone back to the shorter black hair for summer, which always did frame out her face better. "I'll keep my eyes open for it."
"Fair enough. So. Going to give in and switch over to the goth/dominatrix look this summer?"
"I still don't think leather is the way to go. And I don't know that the landlord needs another reason to be giving me funny looks."
"Oh come on, tall women wearing leather and demanding that leaky faucets be fixed are totally awesome," I say.
She pauses, raises an eyebrow, shakes her head and continues crocheting the afghan into existence. "I still see no reason to invest in leather for your amusement. Especially since you wouldn't go to the club with me even if we did drive out to one."
"No, I WOULD go. I'd just sit in a corner and glare at people a lot. I should fit right in if we go somewhere gothy. Though the music is kind of a crapshot then."
"Uh huh. You are so very persuasive."
I drift closer to idly swat at the ball of yarn, only to be swatted in return by Mab. I poke my tongue at her, pull myself up onto the arm of the chair next to her and begin braiding her hair to spare her project and amuse myself while the bad movie continues to assault us in the background.