Han Solo

When I was telling my friends I was moving out solo I was warned of the strange meals you start to eat. Aside from being obsessed with having sparkling mineral water and quince paste in the fridge at all times (this indicates being an adult to me) I thought I’d be cooking up a gourmet storm every night. But then work has been crazy busy of late and my thesis proposal has been looming and I’ve been feeling frazzled, so one night this week I found myself in my pyjamas eating Turkish bread and dips followed by Homer Hudson Choc Rock straight out of the tub (wrapped in a tea towel so me little hands didn’t get cold). Freakin’ yeah. I can’t tell you happy I am. Then Glee Club came on and I got even happier (still overjoyed about owning a TV after 5 years without). As per usual I’m a year behind everyone with the buzz and have just discovered how amazing it is.

 Living by myself is all pros no cons so far. I love: not talking to anyone in the morning (actually, I realise I LOVE silence), never having to shut the bathroom door, leaving dirty dishes because I feel like it, buying expensive food, studying in silence, playing the same song on repeat and not pissing anyone off, having all my stuff around and no one else’s and having a regular stream of visitors for wines and cups of tea (or bouncing calls and revelling in solitude). My thesis proposal is due on Tuesday so I’ve been in lockdown most of the weekend procrastinating heavily. I finally unpacked all my book boxes (elbow is still cracked but I can lift things now. Although I realise I reckon my thumb is broken. It's still fat after 3 weeks and hurts to bend) and found my English exercise book from when I was 14. Lo and behold there was an essay titled ‘Myself in Ten Year’s Time’. Usually I’d cringe and not read it but because the choice was either read it or go back to my computer and stare at my thesis proposal, I decided to read on. What cracked me up was this: “I just hope that my husband’s precious income will cater for my extravagant desire to have a luxurious lifestyle.”

 It’s crazy to think now that it’s twenty years since I wrote the essay. It made me laugh to think that I actually haven’t changed that much – still melodramatic, still want a luxurious lifestyle and I would still prefer to rock on someone else’s dime. Not in a bludging kind of way, more in a ‘kept woman’ kind of way. Well, I’m now rockin’ on my own dime in my own tiny little rented flat. I’m wondering when the cons will kick in. I’m assuming a little bit of madness will creep in next semester when I’m writing my thesis. My levels of procrastinating know no bounds. Like most serial procrastinators, I spend 90% of my time stuffing around then do 10% of really productive work, just break into a flow, then decided to make another cup of tea. I’m irritating myself!

 (Note: this is one of the longest blog posts I have written. I really, really should be revising my proposal right now. Might eat some more Homer Hudson first.)