Home Alone


My wife’s left me. At Easter, of all times. Why did she do it? Why? Waaaaaaah!

OK so I’m being melodramatic. By ‘left me’ I mean, she’s gone away to Buenos Aires for college-type stuff. She’s doing an MBA. Possibly in tango. Or maybe steak-eating. I can’t be sure.

Regardless, I’m all on my lonesome, with just the cats for company. I’m like a little old lady, but without the fondness for parma violets.

I thought this was going to be fun. Doing all the things I don’t normally get to do – eating toast out of a bowl, watching telly in my pants, drinking gin into the wee small hours… actually, scratch those last two. They’re not all that uncommon, I’ll grant you.

But it hasn’t been like that. Once I got over the exhilaration of knowing I could do ANYTHING I WANT! ANYTHING AT ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAAAA! I was struck with a sort of existential angst. What did I want? DVDs? Takeaways? More gin? All three? Should I ration myself so there was something to look forward to the following day?

Overwhelmed by the choices in front of me, I took to my bed as early as possible with a good book and a decent radio play to send me to sleep.

Which was when the paranoia hit. Had I locked the front door? The back door? The windows? Was the gas off? (We’ve got electric for God’s sake.)

After several checks, I went back to bed (turning the downstairs light on, just to deter intruders). But wait! What was that noise? Burglars eh? Maybe I should get the bread knife from downstairs. Don’t be an idiot. You don’t stab with a bread knife – it’s got a bevelled edge (copyright E. Izzard). And anyway, they’d do you for excessive force, even though you claimed self-defence and you’d get a life sentence and die alone. 

Talking of which. What if I died in my sleep? Or even worse, woke up completely paralysed? Who’d find me? And when? Because it’s a Bank Holiday weekend so work wouldn’t think something was amiss until Tuesday afternoon at the earliest. By which time, would the cats have stopped treating me as their co-lodger and started to view me as lunch? 

Actually I’m not all that happy about the way they’ve been looking at me recently. So call me paranoid, but I might lock the catflap tonight.


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One Response to “Home Alone”

  1. BNM Says:

    ‘I’m all on my lonesome, with just the cats for company. ‘

    But how do you know that for sure? Are you sure you’ve looked *everywhere*?

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