Home Alone


I’m a few weeks back off my holiday and just wanted to take a breather from the Christmas kerfuffle to share some stresses I’ve noticed from living alone. Having most recently been living with retired parents, there are certain nuances which were passing me by when I’m at work all day. Maybe you can relate.

  1. Curtains. honestly, the way I’ve been feeling, this could be the whole damn list. Especially since it’s Winter. Leave them open, leave them closed? So it’s obvious you’re out in the day, or not back at night? And by night I obviously mean around 3.30 when it currently goes dark. There’s just too many choices. Don’t even get me started on the porch light.
  2. The milkman. Ok. So, it’s not entirely the poor milkman’s fault. At all, in fact. But I am so sick of testing slightly off milk! I’ve reduced the delivery but still not enough to compensate for there being no one in the house drinking 14 cups of tea a day. And, my rotation system in the fridge needs fine tuning so I’m ending up having to taste the milk to see if it’s off. Ulk.
    There’s a simple fix to this which is just – leave the milkman a note. Cancel it altogether or tell them to stop for a while. But at the moment every time I walk out of the house and see the milk on the doorstep, my brain goes, ‘bloody milkman’. Not, more accurately, ‘YOU eejit, YOU forgot to cancel it again and therefore have a new pint to add to the souring dairy products cluttering up the bottom of the fridge.’ Nope, that gets condensed to, ‘bloody milkman.’ Sorry milkman.
    It now kind of feels like I’m in a one sided terror hostage situation completely of my own making. I can feel it escalating to such a degree that by the time I remember to leave the note, it won’t be a simple case of, ‘no milk today please’ perhaps with a smiley face. Oh no, there’s going to be a slightly perturbed milkman reading a scrawled note (possibly tear-streaked) which simply reads, ‘No more. Please. No more. I can’t take it.’
  3. Bin day. I thought I’d got round this rigmarole by leaving the bins out permanently. No worrying what week it is, no remembering just as I’ve got cosy in bed, job done. But, apparently that’s not allowed. I’ve yet to see any actual bin police, but the nerd in me brought them in anyway.

There’s more, there’s more, but since this feels like the first time in ages I’ve been able to catch my breath – in between interviews, pantomime rehearsals, opening curtains, hosting a party, closing curtains, putting up Christmas decorations (another one which should have made the list) opening curtains, present shopping, food shopping, closing curtains, getting someone in to fix the roof and opening curtains…I’m going to stop here and enjoy my Christmas tree and Home Alone.

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