Being A Grown Up Is Hard: Pt2

This sequel is coming a lot sooner than I expected, mainly because my ‘adulting’, as it were, has ground to a slow halt with the flat hunting being put on tentative hold for August. Arguably, actually, it might be about to get into full and proper swing because for the next three weeks I am living officially alone at home while Jules & Al swan off across the pond for the holiday of a lifetime in Toronto and Chicago.

But this isn’t about them – I’m pettily jealous of all their fun plans while I struggle through an even longer commute to and from work thanks to the Waterloo upgrade, hyperlinked in case you’re bored enough to check up on it. TLDR: half the platforms are closed for refurb, chaos ensues.

Just last night it took overΒ two hours for me to get home thanks to late train departures and a sudden, inexplicable traffic jam along my road that had be in full view of my house at a standstill for ten minutes.

img_9376Ya, follow my snapchat for more of this quality social commentary.

What a consolation it would have been to be able to curl up with my dogs on the sofa and get really stuck into watching Moana for the fifth time. Yeah, that would have been great if Zed and Django hadn’t gone on a little holiday as well. It’s only fair, of course, to send them somewhere during the week where they can have walks every day and constant company rather than howling at home waiting for me to return after a long day, and even though it’s only day two without them, I miss them terribly.

Not least of all because an empty house is way,Β way less scary when you have a dog like Zed whose bark sounds as though it belongs to an animal twice his size.

Yep – I’m freshly twenty seven years old and I am here to tell you that it is perfectly acceptable to be afraid of the dark and literally run up the stairs after you turn the light off in case something grabs your ankle.

anklegrabI regret including this gif, even just looking at it gives me the heebies.

More than that, my room is the loft conversion and while the stairs leading up to it would present something of an obstacle to an ill-prepared home intruder, it also leaves me withΒ nowhere to run. To distract from this macabre train of thought, I knew there was only one thing for it: put on my Harry Potter audiobook to let Stephen Fry lull me into security, and tuck everything up beneath my duvet with no appendages vulnerable for grabbing. After all, it’s a well known fact that if you can’t see them, the monsters can’t see you.

It’s not all doom and gloom though, I have sussed out the rest of this week remarkably well and ensured that I have plans every evening so as to prolong the inevitable nightmare journey and hours alone in a house that suddenly seems a lot bigger than it used to. God, I can’t wait til Saturday to see these angels again.

img_6581I’m shamelessly capitalising on these faces to lure you all in to be my followers. Is it working?

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