It is now officially a month since I abandoned the warm bosom of the Leichhardt Ladies' Hostel and moved into my neon-carpeted spinster pad. I have, of course, gone completely to seed: waking up in the late afternoon; gnawing cheroots in bed; gin for breakfast and beer nuts for high tea. Occasionally I'll have a troupe of burlesque dancers round for supper and we'll quote Oscar Wilde at each other until 4 in the morning, whereupon I realise I'm all out of kippers and they leave in disgust.
Amidst this formidable moral decay, and along with my intense nostalgia for all persons Sydney (dog and cat persons included), I have slowly started to notice the advantages of batching. There are three advantages. I will list them here.
One. The toilet paper lasts longer. I am currently on my fifth roll for the month. There is nothing wrong with my digestive system.
Two. Complete liberty in culinary experimentation. Tonight I plan to add pickled capers to a red cabbage and sesame seed based stir-fry. I would not do this if there were anyone else around. I did once bake zucchini and pecan muffins in company, and noone complained, but that's because baked pecans trump any conceivable objection.
Three. All the mail is for me! Gone are my days of coveting housemates' correspondence with the Law Society and the Commonwealth Bank.
The more analytical amongst you will note that my list is not very long. Which is to say, I like living in kibbutz, and I think you should all come and visit now - or soon, anyway - and I promise not to put capers in your dinner. Unless it's a capery sort of dinner, in which case, they'll be the best darn capers this side of the border.
N.B.: title slightly misleading. My empire-line is not roaming, or declining, or falling. Indeed, I do not wear an empire-line, my embonpoint being better suited to the three-piece ensemble, plus shoes.