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Monday, 30 May 2016

All by myself - socks on my head and an illiterate poltergeist

I've got the house to myself now.  Oh, it probably won't be forever, but certainly for the foreseeable future it's me, three dogs, five cats and enough slugs to make the carpet look as though it has the sort of interesting raised, silver pattern that you would be delighted to see on any book jacket.
This isn't my exact carpet, you can tell from the lack of stains, but this is the approximate effect


And you know what?  It's FANTASTIC!  Being alone, not the slugs.

No more trying to set a good example to the children by putting washing away immediately, clearing bowls and plates, tidying up after myself!  No more watching incredibly rubbish TV because of 'majority decisions'. No more writing with one eye on the clock, waiting to be disturbed.

I can now live like the utter slattern I really am.  My inner slob is running free (and quite often un-underpanted, because the dogs don't care what I'm wearing)!  I can eat nothing but sandwiches and cereal if I want! (I don't, because I don't much like sandwiches, but I can if I want to, and that's what matters).  I can wander around the house in nothing but a dressing gown and a pair of socks on my head....actually, no, I've always done that, it's part of being a writer, sorry.  I can buy a packet of biscuits and they are still in the cupboard when I want one!

More to the point, I can write whenever I want to.  Apart from the necessity of going to work to actually earn money, the rest of my time is completely my own.  Of course, this means that I sit down with the full intention of working (that Christmas novella isn't going to write itself. I know this, because I've tried leaving the laptop switched on when I wasn't around, and the only words that appeared were 'Gnfugggjjjjjjdfjkl;afe  ngerw231123'.  Either a cat on the keyboard or my poltergeist is illiterate) and look up four days later to find that my tea has gone cold and I've read my way through the entire Fortean Times message forum.  And I still don't have any pants on, my socks are still on my head, and the postman is poking me with a stick through an open window because he thinks I might be dead.
The cup of tea in question. Yes, I know it says Coffee on it, but I'm spontaneous like that.
So, if you'll excuse me...it's been nearly thirty years since I last lived on my own, and I've got a backlog of eating rubbish and watching 'Rosemary and Thyme' to catch up with...

5 comments:

jenni keer said...

I can but dream...
Another ten years to go - and that's an optimistic estimate which relies heavily on husband accepting my plan to live Helena Bonham Carter style, in adjoining houses.

Jane Lovering said...

I can thoroughly recommend it! I suppose I might get fed up with it after...oooh, I don't know, about fifty years...

Theresa said...

Hello lovely cousin! Living alone too and still in my dressing gown catching up on a Murray tennis match I missed...true decadence.... My head is to big for my socks to fit on it sadly but maybe I'll design something for when we meet in June! Xxx

Jane Lovering said...

I'm looking forward to seeing you - and your sock-draping skills!

Carol Hedges said...

Am on own during daytime as OH has managed after 5 months to get a new job. It is bliss. Not sure what will happen when he retires.... may have to send him over to stand outside your window in lurkmode so I get the house to myself. Nyah!