Thursday, 1 April 2010

Footprints on the bath mat

I have a fairly strange living arrangement. Not as strange as in Elephant and Castle, when I shared four walls with an Italian life model, a Russian soldier and a bloke from Leeds who worked at Buckingham Palace (to economise, he would steal the toilet roll there for us). But it is quite odd.

I have lived with my (southern) boyfriend for a year now – but rarely see him. He works normal hours. I leave home after lunch and head back around midnight. But we do leave traces for the other one to deal with, proof we are still there. For instance, I sometimes leave food in the sink after washing up. And he leaves everything everywhere else. I had a word with him about how his clothes almost make it to the wardrobe and wash basket, instead ending up in a pile on the floor. His response was to start draping his jeans and jumpers on the wardrobe door – a tactic I employed with my mother as a child.

His latest thing is that he refuses to wash up for too long because he is tall and ‘the sink is low’, so he gets a bad back. So he can only manage a couple of mugs and a fork before he needs a sit down. ‘But I don’t leave food in the sink!’ he says.
But it's not all bad. Because this morning I found this trace - creme eggs in the wash basket. Hurrah!

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