Imaginary? Roots obscura

My ex-wife was a mathematician (she probably still is, calculating bitch!). She could do a number on you, but wasn’t always easy to live with. Now, don’t get me wrong, the exquisite fractals on the bathroom mirror are breathtakingly beautiful. I could live with the giant dodecahedron suspended above the bed (most of the time). I could tolerate the assorted polyhedra distributed throughout the house. And I’m not entirely averse to the odd bit of arithmetic, just to spice things up once in a while. But it was the giant clitorus that always made me uneasy: I could never quite tell whether she was coming or going.

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