I’m spending this week home alone as Noreen is doing a week’s consultancy work in Derbyshire. I was originally going to go with her, just to get a week away, but it was decided — for all sorts of reasons — it would make more sense for me to stay here.
We are not impressed. We aren’t used to having to “do for ourselves” these days; we expect our slaves to be there on demand.
As a very minimum we need intravenous tea.
And I keep having to ask questions like “What’s a dishwasher?” and “How do I get into this tin?”.
Well, no, not really. But you get the point.
On the other hand it is sufficiently quiet that I’m also getting quite a bit done, which was part of the intention because, as always, I have mountains of work to do for both the Anthony Powell Society and the two Patient Participation Groups I chair. I managed to kill off lots of jobs yesterday, but there’s still a lot to do.
I’m not doing so well today, though. Firstly I got a phone call this morning summoning me to go to see my doctor as she wants to change my medication. And I also have our friend Tom here replacing some corkboard for us — he’s currently scraping away at the other side of the wall from where I’m sitting.
And while Noreen’s away I’m taking the opportunity to give her laptop the once over — no she decided she wasn’t going to need it so left it behind. (No, I don’t understand how you can survive for a week away without your laptop, either!) Said laptop needs a good clean — both physically and virtually — as well as it needs various updates and changes doing; so this is a good chance. Luckily much of what’s needed can be done between other jobs, otherwise you just end up watching the proverbial paint dry.
What has really surprised me, though, is how quiet the house is. It isn’t as if Noreen is noisy — if anything I’m the noisy one! But without a second person in the house it is just so quiet — I noticed it as soon as Noreen went out the front door before daybreak yesterday morning. You could almost hear a pin drop. Suddenly the house was quiet and different, even before I got out of bed, as if it knows it is alone.
Needless to say the cat is confused too. But then she’s not a creature of routine and often lays low for hours at a stretch — especially with Tom in the house as he’s the bringer of noise and pusser-eating machines.
It all just feels weird.
But, barring intervention by The Kindly Ones, it’s only until Friday evening.