Good morning, fabulous reader! Did you know that, according to Wikipedia, there have been five Home Alone films? (I had to look it up in order to make sure that this post’s title was accurate.) Crazy, isn’t it? I know. We should watch them all at some point.
This weekend my darling flat mate has (foolishly) left me home alone, and I would like to share some of the main reasons why, at the grand old age of twenty-five, I should probably have been left in the care of a babysitter, social worker or similar:
- Memory issues: as discussed in previous blog posts, I have the memory of a senile goldfish who’s recently sustained a concussion. When I left the house yesterday afternoon, I automatically left the living room light on in order to bamboozle potential burglars. (That’s right: bamboozle. That’s how I roll.) When I got home later that evening, I saw the living room light on and thought “ooh, Ash is home!” She was not. Which leads me on to my next problem:
- Intelligent conversation: when I thought that Ash was home, I wandered up the stairs calling out greetings, gossip about my day and general musings. It took me – I kid you not – it took me at least five minutes to realise that no response was forthcoming, because I was alone in the house. Did that stop me from talking? Did it heck. Talking to ourselves is one of the greatest joys in life, and if our own psyches start to get annoying, there’s always the furniture to chat with.
- Misadventures: the guy who lives downstairs from us is a lovely old chap by day, but he is inordinately fond of playing loud music and drunkenly shouting at himself very late at night (or very, very early in the morning). If Ash is not here to stop me (or at least calm me down slightly), there is a very strong chance that I will lose my temper and throw something through his living room window.
- Sleepless in Southgate: I haven’t been sleeping very well for a couple of weeks. My friends have had to become accustomed to me zoning out of conversations, being unable to think of words, having no spatial awareness etc. Without Ash in the house this weekend I am basically helpless. It sounds silly, but if you’d seen me try to work out how to change the channel on the television a few minutes ago, you would understand the need for caution. (Seven attempts to hit the Sky button. It’s just not cool.)
With a due sense of dread and fear, I’m going to go and try to make coffee. Have a tremendous Saturday, you lovely person.