Four months now I’ve been living on my own and for the life of me I don’t understand why I didn’t do this sooner.
I actually live on a main road now. At first I thought this would be weird. Going from a streets where a car passed a couple of times an hour to being a main artery for traffic. Buses, cars and all sorts of other vehicles going by. People going by. Yet it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
I was out gardening a couple of weeks ago, I spent three hours out there putting up new features, planting, repairing and a few other things and the only time my attention went elsewhere was when my neighbour came in as I was cable tying solar lights to the fence.
It was, when I thought about it later, amazing that I could escape into my own world while cars whizzed by, buses full of people went past, people walked past to the school, the park or the shops. I never noticed them.
Anyway, that is not what I was going to write about.
This is how it is. I do a washing, the weather is crap so the back bedroom becomes a drying room. A couple of loads later the washing machine gets switched off and the back bedroom looks like a laundrette, minus Dot Cotton.
What seems like moments later I pass the washing basket and it’s half full. In reality it’s a couple of days later and I’ve passed the basket several times but it’s when I notice it. Where’s this washing come from? Have people with keys been coming in and leaving me their laundry? Must be.
To illustrate this, last Friday I did four washes, the washing basket was empty when I returned it to its home in my bedroom. The towels and bed linen were out on the line, everything else was hanging on two clothes horses in the back bedroom.
Standing at the kitchen window I felt that satisfaction you get when you see your washing flapping in the wind. Imagining how fresh it will smell when you bring it in.
Yes, I’m a saddo. This is where my life has ended up. Spent years clubbing and doing things that will never be blogged about and now I get my thrills from seeing my bath towels billowing in the wind. Younger readers, you’ll understand this when you get to my age. You’ll also get a weird satisfaction from tidying your house. Shiny toilet bowls will make you proud as punch and the glint off a newly cleaned window will be justification for opening that bottle of Prosecco you’ve been saving since Christmas.
To get back on track, washings done on Friday and just before I wrote this blog (Monday evening) I passed the washing basket and it’s half full. How? HOW?
I’ve not gone into the washing basket but I have thought about what might be in it since Friday.
Underwear, yes. Despite the fact that I do wear big pants they still shouldn’t be filling up the washing basket. I worked on Saturday so there’s those clothes. Still not enough for a half full washing basket. Pyjama change. OK. What’s in there is a mystery.
It’s not the only thing that builds up. Washing up. The dishes. Where do they come from? On Sunday I did my dishes after my early roast. So by six PM the kitchen was clear. By Monday morning I could see the bunker beside my sink.
Had I hosted a supper party? No but I had myself a supper of poached eggs on potato scones (delicious by the way) about nine PM. So there were poach pods, a pan, a plate, a grill pan, a grill handle, a knife and fork, a glass for water. All that for a snack! Add to that the cups of tea I’d had (three cups and three spoons!) and the plate I needed for my afternoon cake pm Sunday. Then add to that my Monday morning cuppa, breakfast bowl and spoon.
How have I never noticed this before?
Of course, I have punted the dishes before when the boiler can’t be arsed working. Why should I make the effort if the bucking boiler doesn’t? It’ll be sitting there looking all worky and then I’ll turn the tap on and it’ll flag up ERR 108 which I have spoken about before. I cannot repeat what the boiler has been called over the last few days. I’d surely be arrested under the Boiler Protection Act.
So yes, I have sympathy with people living on their own who just don’t know where everything comes from. Last week I walked into Fox Towers and looked around and I genuinely wasn’t sure if I had been burgled or not. Why was this? I’ve been working, seeing friends and family and the hoose has just been a place to sleep. It had become a mess.
I gutted it last Thursday. Apart from my desk, that’ll never be tidy.
In recent times I have had some strange folk following me. Folk who live their lives on social media. They think they don’t, but they do. They get a bit enraged if you don’t comply with their views.
May your laundry pile lessen.