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.
8 comments:
Might i suggest another item that should be considered for your list ... is solo living advantageous for your training routine? I can imagine having some space to yourself might have facilitated this week's task of learning to fly (i think the high-protein diet is covered under your second point). This item notwithstanding, we're mighty keen to come a-visiting as soon as we can.
An interesting side-note to receiving correspondence while living alone: even the letters that are addressed to The Person Who Once Lived At This Address But Now Lives Here No More are for you: you can open them and read them to your heart's content. It's even better when they're bills - you get an indescribable feeling of satisfaction on reading the bills of other people who you have never known and are never likely to know.
Ah, friend, I'm afraid the acrobatic training regime has fallen somewhat by the wayside; if possible, I am less trapeze worthy now than I was a month ago. Thanks for the reminder. I'll get back on the wagon soon. Much hug to you.
Tim: it's true! OPSM's offers of half-price spectacle frames to previous inhabitant, Lulu Wilson, make for the most gripping literature I have read all year.
Ah, OPSM, the bane of the new resident's life. In our case, The Person Who Once Lived At This Address But Left NINE YEARS AGO was not only bespectacled, but was also an optomotrist. So in addition to ongoing correspondence from OPSM, we also receive an eagerly-awaited annual invitation to This Year's Amazing Optometry Conference at This Year's Exotic International Location. Exciting stuff.
Keep holding out and one day you may get something that is REALLY worth reading... a love letter, for instance:
Dear, Dear, Dearest [Person Who Used To Live At This Address But Does Not Anymore],
I love you! I love you more than I can say! I was wrong, oh so wrong, oh so dreadfully wrong, wrong, wrong, to leave you those long years ago - oh how long they seem! but I know they were a mere nine years ago, now - for another woman! Will you be mine again? Oh, if I could convey to you how I have dreamed of you, every single night, while I was rowing up the Amazon with nought but a baby giraffe for company... etc, etc, etc
Actually, there's an entire article on this subject that I've been meaning to write.
Incidentally, O Wool Spaniel, that game of 'In Your Pants' you suggested a week or so ago inspired a story of my own.
It's the detail about the baby giraffe that would get me, and then there'd be no rest until I had tracked down Previous Inhabitant and reunited her with her mail. Unless she were an optometrist, in which case, I'd figure her life was rich and exciting enough.
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