Saturday, August 14, 2010

Home alone

My housemate, D, left last night for two weeks in New Zealand. This is both good and bad. Good because I don't feel guilty about taking up the entire fridge or hogging the washing machine or subjecting her to watching Rush, solely because it's based in Melbourne and I get homesick for trams. Bad because I have an overactive imagination when I'm home alone overnight.

I think it started in about year 9 when I was home by myself doing homework in my room during winter. From memory, it was only about 6.30, but because it was dark, when I heard a noise, I automatically started freaking out. It sounded like someone was downstairs in the kitchen banging dishes in the dishwasher. I assumed that Mum or Dad had gotten home, but when I got to the top of the stairs, all the lights downstairs were out. So I grabbed my hockey stick (God knows what I thought I was going to do with it...), and crept downstairs.

And when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I screamed bloody murder and swung my hockey stick at a face in the darkness. Which turned out to be a noh mask that my brother had brought home from a choir tour earlier in the year, and which had been hung at head height on the hall stand... I did manage to avoid hitting it, which I was quite impressed with. And of course, there was no one in the kitchen or in the house, and the noise like banging dishes turned out to be the dog SNORING. Don't ask me how it sounded like the dishwasher being unloaded very loudly, I still have no idea.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway, this unfortunate incident has been replicated numerous times over the years, although not quite in such spectacular fashion. I seem to have developed an unfortunate habit of watching things I shouldn't watch right before bedtime, and then realising that I'm going to be alone in the house overnight.

Last year, my old housemate went home for a month to do her teaching rounds. I watched Se7en at 10.30pm and then freaked out that Kevin Spacey was going to chop my head off and put it in a box. I actually built a barricade in front of my bedroom door to stop him from getting in.

Last night? I watched a Reaver heavy episode of Firefly, followed by the first half hour of The Exorcist. Champion work... Tonight, I have plans for pulling all the G-rated stuff out of my DVD collection - surely there's nothing in there to freak me out??? Dammit. I've just jinxed myself. I now have no doubt that I'll switch off the DVD player and the TV will flick over to a report on Tony Abbott running a triathlon, including stock footage of him in his budgie smugglers...

Screw it. I'm off to build another barricade.....................................

K xx

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