I shouldn’t find that funny, but I do.
I shouldn’t find myself home alone on a Saturday morning and actually enjoying the peace and quiet. But I am. My Kid is off with The Outlaws, and The Boyfriend is having breakfast with his friend (co-incidentally, it’s the male half of The Disgustingtons – she’s at home. Pregnant. Within a year of marriage, like I predicted. Just putting that FYI out there.) and the builders that were supposed to be here, preparing our walls upstairs, for painting and getting ready to start the construction on my balcony (yes, I’m very sad to announce that my beloved balcony is getting a roof and made into an additional room.) didn’t come.
I shouldn’t find myself wishing that this two hours of peace I’m now going to have, would last longer, but I do. Just a little bit longer, please? When I’m home alone is when I get to do all the things I normally don’t get to do when The Kid and The Boyfriend are home. Switch the TV off. Shut all the doors and curtains and listen to music as loud as I want on my iPod. Seriously. an iPod is generally wasted on a mother – you’re always listening out for that call that signals that your child needs you, or that silence that signals that your child is doing something that they shouldn’t be doing. I get to listen to music that can’t be listened to at the volume of your choice, while in the car in traffic. Because you don’t want to be that doos that’s playing their choice of music so loud that everyone within a 2km radius is forced to listen.
I can smoke at my desk. At my computer. I can sing along to the music I’m listening to. All things I can’t do at the office. I get to smoke a joint in its entirety (outside, on my balcony, of course). I get to have a tidy house that will stay tidy for a few hours and when I take my earphones out, I can hear silence. I shouldn’t find myself being able to blog, on a Saturday. But here I am.
Enjoying my alone time.
I shouldn’t, but I do.