Nobody should have to live alone. Mere hours after my housemates moved out I notice I’m talking to myself 50% more, staring blankly into space 30% more and contemplating various obsessive-compulsive activities like starting a chronologically arranged collection of nail clippings. But then I’d have to put all the stubble I less than regularly shave off into some kind of grade-based filing system also. Don’t even get me started on naming each one individually and having a small but perfectly ordered baptism. Just friends and family. All this after hours. Looking at the screwdriver I took my laptop apart with (and put back together) I feel I am missing something by not taking some other household appliance apart.
Everybody needs to have someone around at least 5 or 6 hours a day to keep them in-check and stop them doing crazy stupid things. Which leaves me with the following conundrum; what to do between right now and about 10am tomorrow.
I’m all out of ideas. I’m off to label hundreds of tiny plastic bags and fill them with toenail clippings from minutes gone by. I shall call the first one… Mildred.
I live alone and I’m perfectly normal. Aren’t I?