Curled up in a red sofa. I'm in an empty, rather chilly house on a dark winter evening so I chose the room that has the sofa and a flatscreen and gathered around me my laptop, a novel, my diary, my phone, a glass of wine, a dog, and the remote to the flatscreen.
I seem to have acquired a reputation as the go-to woman for people who need someone to babysit their pets and house when they go on holiday. Last time it was the quaint cottage and the sheepdog in a summer village, before that a messy house with two indifferent cats. This time it's midwinter and I'm stationed in a suburb of pastel-coloured houses, in a house that feels much too large for me and shows the wear and tear and clutter of a family with several children. My companion is a high-strung but ultra-cute poodle.
I claim a couple of spots in the house for myself - the kitchen table, the guest bedroom, a shelf in the bathroom for my stuff, and this red sofa. It's a bit like camping ( including a rather uncomfortable bed ) but there are things to enjoy here. Like the espresso maker, a real fireplace, the sauna, and a garage door that can be remotely opened as you pull up in the driveway. ( This last detail I enjoy with childish pleasure. My car, which has always had to endure winter storms and summer heat parked out in the street, probably thinks it has died and gone to Citroën heaven ).
And someone else's extensive CD collection, an unexplored bookshelf and even a miniature pool table.
I love having a daily life that is all new to me. Even the most boring morning routine seems like an opportunity to reinvent yourself into the person you always wanted to be. And there is a new neighbourhood to explore.
So today's tasks included negotiating a pot-holed road to work, wiping mud off poodle paws and listening to Sigur Rós.
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