Camomile and piles of clothes

The clothes of mine that are not scattered all over my bedroom floor are either on the sofa in the living room, or on me. Everything is liberally dusted with cat hair be it clean or dirty. This is the reality when I’m busy daytimes and evenings too. If I were to meet someone tonight and sparks were to fly, I wouldn’t want her to come back here. I won’t meet anyone, thankfully, because time is not an abundant resource this week, plus I’m never looking. Hopefully I won’t get called on to dress smartly for an audition until after the weekend either. Although an audition is always nice.

I get home, throw food on while running a bath and writing this blog. 


Then I wash, put a hot water bottle in my bed, set my alarm and crash. But that’s day to day existence for a large chunk of the working population in this country, barring the ever present threat of dropping everything for an audition, the bath that takes 45 minutes to run, and the daily blog. I should get a cleaning lady but I’m kind to strangers. Plus I’m not exactly raking it in despite the hours.

I’m going to employ camomile tea as my sleepjuice tonight. It makes for a better sleep than twenty barrels of grog, and a better wake as well. I’m sure I could murder a firkin of ale, a Nebuchadnezzar of krug or even just a glass of plonk, but a cup of camomile tea with two bags (indulgence!) will help me survive the mindnumbing tedium of tomorrow’s day job.

Tomorrow I’m back invigilating exams. Students taking exams are marginally more interesting than drying paint, although there were times that I hankered for a good roller of Dulux Lunar Falls and a shaft of light. I forgot to bring in something to learn, which was a waste of six uneventful silent hours. Four 1.5 hour exams plus set up and turnaround. I’m a machine at it now.  It’ll never make me rich, but it makes the day money positive rather than money negative. I need as many days like that as I can to offset my social habits and bills and to keep me in camomile tea until Carol starts. Tomorrow will be long silent hours again but I’ll bring in Macbeth and arbitrarily learn one of the smaller characters, and one of the speeches I don’t know yet. That ought to at least keep me happy and let the time go by without me having to drop my eyes too much. I just have to remember not to say stuff out loud.

The beasties are pretty well squished despite the darkness. I just needed to bring them out in the open so I could see how stupid they look.

Now I want to sort my clothes out and make my flat what it can be. I want to instigate a thing whereby I try to make sure I make everything at home a little bit nicer by the end of the day than it is at the beginning. Otherwise it’s too easy to slip, and fall asleep, as I am about to, in a sea of hairy shirts.



Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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