naming of things

We're both namers, the wife and I.
Or re-namers.
Transformation is one of my old survival mechanisms & the wife's poetic nature similarly reinvents the mundane.

Our house is the Secret Garden (at least until the end of the month), our car is alternately The Panzer or The Lucky Turtle. The down comforter on the bed is known as The Bouff. Falling prey to its siren song of comfort is known as getting Bouffed, and usually blamed on an outside party- "you Bouffed me!" My niece was The Fiend before Teresa had birthed her.

Teresa herself is The Burl.
Complicating things the wife is also known as Burl, among her many other names.
When they converse Teresa is Burl and the wife is Other Burl.

Not even something we named originally is immune.
Eamonn has been re-christened The Fusser.

As a newborn he briefly bore the unweildy title Irish Character Actor, but it was doomed by length. For a while he was The Fella, serviceable but not tremendously descriptive.

This latest sobriquet springs from his extensive nightly readings of the seemingly endless Litany of Complaints. Dietary adjustments have been implemented, but Fusser has sunk its roots deep and he may be stuck with it.

Time will tell.