Yesterday was my first real day off since the end of August. I was not scheduled to work either of my two jobs, I didn’t have a class and I was not working on an upcoming show. I had no appointments I had to keep and so the day was my own to do with as I wished.
I spent the majority of it restoring some sense of order to the Spinster Nest. It had fallen into quite the state over the past couple of weeks while I prepared for exams and last week’s run of shows. The Nest is not a large space. In fact it is so small that one dirty plate left out and a tissue on the floor is enough to make me start using words like untidy and cluttered.
When my life becomes as busy as it has been over the past few months, my home can cease to be the haven away from the chaos that it should be and instead becomes little more than a hotel room for my transient self to rest her head for a few hours before dashing off to the next appointment. Of course, it does not have the one big advantage that a hotel has, maid service, and so as of Saturday night messy would have been the kindest adjective one could use to describe the condition of my home.
There were piles of costuming and props to be put away, stacks of mail to be sorted, two week’s worth of laundry to be done and dishes in need of washing. The bathroom desperately needed a good cleaning and the litter box was a day past due changing. While I didn’t expect I could possibly get all of this done in one day, I knew I could at least take care of most of the clutter and give the place a livable feel again. I did manage to accomplish that at least.
While bemoaning the state of my apartment one afternoon last week a friend asked me if times like this ever made me wish for someone to share a space with; someone who could pick up the slack when I was too busy with the assumption that I would do the same for them should they find themselves in a similar place. I very quickly replied that no, I am still quite content to live on my own even if it is in the midst of temporary extreme untidiness. Whatever state my apartment is in, the mess is my own and while there might be a bit of a delay at times, it does eventually get cleaned up and home becomes home again.
Truthfully the only times I ever wish that I lived with another person is when I find myself rising from my bed in the middle of the night to investigate some creepy sound and I think that it would be awfully nice to have another body to shove in front of me to distract the serial killer who is likely hiding behind the shower curtain so that I can have a few moments to make my getaway out the back door while keeping my fingers crossed that the killer doesn’t leave behind too much of a mess.