Sunday, 6 July 2008

Home again, home again

The geologist, 19th century painting by Carl S...Image via WikipediaHousehold gets back to normal tomorrow. Not before time. I get fed up being alone. Freedom isn't all it's made out to be.

What on earth do single people do? Organising your life is exhausting. There's absolutely nothing you can take for granted. I remember that from before, but we were younger then. We could ride with the punches better.

Now I'm finishing off some work, I'll pack my lunch for tomorrow, then clean the cooker. Everything's looking ship-shape, as clean and tidy as if acts of great depravity had taken place, because the house would never be clean just from living in it, would it?

That's something else that belongs in the past: acts of great depravity. I need eight hours at least, or else I won't be worth shit in the morning. I'd be lucky to muster the energy for an act of eyebrow-raising unseemliness.

Thanks to all those who looked after me this past week. I dare say we'll do it again sometime soon.

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