Waiting for God(ot)...

I am alone this weekend.

All alone, with only my fleas to mourn me.

It's not really been that bad; I have had time to chat and look at far too many things on the Internet and watch the rugby and go shopping and do dishes and laundry and write a letter to Tristan and talk to my mother and write her a letter and order her a map and change those pesky very high lightbulbs and write in my journal and pick my nose and take a bath and go for a walk and watch the moorhens and doodle and pick leaves and think about what it would be like to have a back yard and if I would get in trouble for picking the flowers in the public gardens, and I got a new file box to start organizing the bills... but I haven't started that yet.

Poor you! and why are you all alone? I hear you asking.

Well, it's not like I have a new nephew, like Stephen does. (Congratulations to the entire family!) And so, I'm not in London. And it's not like I have friends to go play lazer tag, spend the night in a whole different town which requires a train to get to, and go beach hanging and ice skating to amuse me, like Ashley does. And so I'm not on the South of England.

It doesn't actually leave me a lot to do.

The hardest part was waking up by myself this morning. And tonight might be worse, if Ashley doesn't make it home until very late. But it will pass, and it is good for me. Almost nice, even. Noone needing to be fed but me. Noone grumpy but me. Noone to get in my way while I scrub the bathtub or gather laundry... or to steal the one book that I wanted to read just before I get to it. And I have my credit card. Aren't they supposed to make everything better?

A weekend is not enough time to miss them, but I do.

Ashley will be home tonight, and then I think I'll wait patiently for my God(ot)...

...but he will actually arrive.