Sometimes, John travels for work. A day trip to Berlin or Paris, or four whirlwind days in the US which take him to places on opposite coasts, like Boston, New York, followed by Chicago, LA and San Francisco. (No, I'm not sure how he does it either.)
It's not like he's gone for weeks at a time, but sometimes, he'll be away for a week and I'll find myself at home. Alone. Which is what a lot of adults do on a regular basis but is something I still haven't quite gotten the hang of yet. My 80-year-old neighbor knows I'm nervous on my own, so will come over to check on me (last time, we went on a fish and chip date when we both found ourselves home alone - it was adorable and fun) and joke about bumps in the night, to which I shoot evil dagger eyes in response. What can I say? I'm easily scared.
Left to my own devices, these are 10 thoughts that run through my head:
Stuff that mysteriously moves:
That shower gel was definitely not there when I last used it. I definitely put it down here. Logical conclusion: someone's broken in and moved the shower gel. Wait a minute - they still might be here! Hiding in the bathroom cupboard, obviously.
Talking to inanimate objects:
Speaking of acceptable things to do when you're alone, it's perfectly acceptable to talk to an egg you accidentally cracked on the freshly-cleaned stove, right? As in, "WHY did you have to do that? WHY? So unfair. SO. UNFAIR!"
Talking to insects:
Speaking of talking to things, it's also acceptable to talk to a bumblebee when taking out a bunch of dead flowers and get caught by someone walking past, right? As in, "Hey you! No, I don't think you'll like these: they're WAY past their sell by date." (Yes, this actually happened.)
TV consumption:
Don't find that reminder that pops up on Netflix every so often a little ... judgemental? You know, the one that says, "Are you still watching Gilmore Girls?" YES I AM, DAMMIT! I AM STILL WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS, AND YES, I AM ON EPISODE 20 AND IT'S STILL SUNDAY. LEAVE ME ALONE.
Out-of-control-Googling
Examples: "How can you tell an egg is bad?" "Meningitis symptoms" "Gilmore Girls IMDB" "How can you tell frozen tortellini is bad?" "Allergic reaction rash" "When to call 999"
Etiquette:
It's perfectly acceptable to use a cotton wool pad as a napkin if a proper napkin isn't available, right? Right? (By "available", I mean, within an arm's reach from my position on the sofa.)
Bedtime:
I have no concept of how late it is when John's not home. Mostly, it's because I'm afraid of the dark (but then I can't sleep when the lights are on, so I have to wear an eye-shade and ... it's complicated), so while our normal bedtime on the weekdays when John's in is 10:00 (he gets up for work at a crazy hour), if I'm sleeping solo, I'll only reluctantly drop off at 12:00 or 1:00 a.m.
Shapes in the dark:
That shape by the door: bathrobe? Or girl from The Ring? Probably the bathrobe. But ...
Noises in the dark:
Someone is definitely in the house. They've somehow managed to not trigger the alarm that I accidentally trigger almost every day and are on their way up the stairs. Quick! Plan your escape route, Jaime. Maybe through that open window you're sleeping next to ... the same one letting noise from the street in.
Possible weapons to defend myself against said imaginary intruders:
In no particular order: fly spray, hairspray, dry shampoo, a spiky cocktail ring I bought at Accessorize 8 years ago that could definitely gouge an eye out, if necessary. Ooh! Also: a vintage glass decanter. That would hurt if thrown over the head.
I mean, is it just me? Please tell me it's not just me.
