When it sucks to live alone

When the lights suddenly go out and the house starts to creak.

When the cat has left a dead rat in the middle of the hallway.

When you’re woken in the middle of the night by a tapping at your (upstairs) bedroom window which, sure,  is probably the tree. Probably.

When you are neck deep in a wonderful hot bubble bath and the phone rings. Stops. Rings again. Stops. Rings again, and it is obvious the caller is not going to give up.

When you have to climb a wobbly ladder.  When you are trying to put up a 6′ curtain rail and you only have a 5′ arm-span. And a wobbly ladder.

When you are watching a scary movie and there’s a sudden crash in the kitchen.

When – no, you take over now. I have to work out how to dispose of the biggest dead rat I’ve ever seen. I write about bodies all the time, sure, but they aren’t four-legged, bald-tailed, and possibly just playing dead. If it suddenly roars back to life, I’ll, well, I’ll set the dog on it, that’s what I’ll do. From the safety of the hallway chandelier.

It does occur to me that with more singles every day, and more of us in our second flush of vibrant youth rather than the first, that it’s time we got together and formed a few co-operatives. I’d move into my fictional corpse-dotted village for those over 55 in a heartbeat if it existed but until then I’d rather like to know there are some local hardy types I could call on. I’m not entirely sure what I could offer the co-op in return. I can bake and roast, but am otherwise a fairly dire cook, and I don’t iron. I’m beginning to realize why I’m single, but there’s sure to be some skill I take entirely for granted which would be co-op currency?

Talk among yourselves. Post any good ideas. Ta.