Tuesday, January 02, 2007

A year on my own and not yet dead

The title says it all really - it's a year since I moved out of Ma and Pa's and into Sparky Towers, and the beginning of a new life as a real, proper, grown-up homeowner. And in that time I've been successful in not killing myself.

How awesome is that?

Y'see, I half expected to do something resulting in personal injury at some point. I was awfully pleased when I found out that Sparky Towers doesn't have gas, as I feared that would lead me to blowing myself up. I've also successfully dealt with washing clothes and dishes, hoovering and other assorted household chores, and matching up my socks properly (they're all predominantly black you see, and YOU CAN tell when they're not correctly paired).

I've also neither gained nor lost a disproportionate amount of weight, do not live on a diet of ice cream and crisps, and nothing in the fridge is on the verge of developing intelligence and rudimentary motor skills.

So all in all I've rather proud of myself. And there's only 29 years left to go on the mortgage - hurrah!


Today was also the first day back to work after the Christmas break (which went by far too quickly, I should add). Still suffering from the bizarre ailment that struck me down last week, I briefly considered taking the day off sick, but there were two reasonably decent reasons not to:

1. There's actually a fair bit of work to do.
2. Can you imagine trying to convince people that I actually was ill upon my return, and that I wasn't just 'chucking a sicky' like the rest of London apparently did.

Instead I stumbled into work, coughed and sneezed and lot, and snotted in my hand once. I think that's the convincing part sorted.


A plus side of 'the first day back' was that I shuffled down to Secret Starbucks at lunchtime with my old writing pad of story ideas. Reading back through some of my ideas from last year was quite an eye-opening experience, because, I'm amazed to say, some of them are actually kinda good (if I do say so myself), or at the very least worthy of taking a second look at. Of course, there's the novel outline I plan to expand upon in February, but there's also a couple of micro-stories that I wrote (but didn't submit) for the micro-story competition last year. What stood out the most, however, was a premise I wrote for an action-adventure character I came up with. I genuinely liked what I'd written, which makes a change.

That being the case, I'm going to spend a bit of time this evening typing and tidying it up. This is the year, my friends, this is the year; as Denny Crane would say: "lock and load!"


skillz said...

"snotted in my hand once"

Dude, hope you high-fived Nemesis straight after!

As for the writing, I toyed with the idea of writing a sitcom about my mate Chufty. I had some great ideas about storyline, but I never took the plunge because of fear of failure.

Tim said...

Awwww, I would've done, but he actually doesn't work for my company. Maybe I should've posted it to him?

You should write your sitcom. As Yoda once said, "Do or do not... there is no try!"

Dinah said...

I'm really happy that you're not dead.

Dora and Tina said...

Yay for not killing or hurting yourself! Even though your vibro-fridge did come close.....

Also I was impressed with you only snotting in your hand once. You should have pulled that sickie....

Tim said...

Dinah - That's possibly the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me!

Dora - Vibro-fridge did indeed come close to vanquishing me... and yet I vanquished it!!!

You're right, I should've pulled that sickie. Damn my morals!!!

Tara said...

In the Spring I believe it'll be my fourth year on my own. I found a cheap apartment 8 minutes away from work, and before I knew it, my credit was accepted and I was telling the guys where to put my corner cupboard. Made my head spin! I was a little panic stricken the first night, as was my cat, but after that things calmed down. It's nice to live on my own, to order pizza and buy beer without asking permission..Nice.
I'm wishing you the best of luck with the story writing!

Tim said...

Eight minutes from work!? EIGHT MINUTES FROM WORK!?! Blimey. Sometimes I wish I lived close to work - or rather that work was closer to home. But then I realise that I'd be put back on the list to deal with alarm malfunctions and things like that, so it's probably best I'm not.

Ha ha - I remember my first night in my house. I literally left Mum and Dad's at about 9:30, went to my new home, went to bed, then went straight round Mum and Dad's after work the next day. It was as if I'd only moved my bed five miles away!

Tim said...

Oh, and ta muchly for the writing wishes! I might need them!!