Monday, June 6, 2011

All By Myself*

*Excuse the moany, feeling-sorry-myself title. This is not a woe-is-me blog post. It’s a bit moany but nothing so sad it’ll make the reader even want to do a razor-blade action.

In one of my favourite Sex and the City episodes Carrie and Aidan have just moved in together and it takes a little adjusting. Carrie then laments to the girls about how she misses so many things she couldn’t do before she had a dude hanging around her place. This in turn leads the other girls to reveal some of their private activities they love to do. Sometimes it just seems like there are some things that feel better when done alone like…

…going to the movies by yourself. Yes it’s awesome with a date but there’s something absolutely fabulous when it’s just you. Maybe it’s because you don’t have to pretend to like arty, clever movies and can see what you really want (One ticket for Fast and Furious Five please!) Maybe it’s because you can overload your popcorn with salt ‘n’ vinegar flavouring and no one makes passive aggressive comments. Whatever the reasoning, it is something to be relished.

…making a big pot of pasta and then sitting down to watch Julie and Julia. The story behind this is, one day one of my gays gave me a copy of J&J. He also instructed me not to watch it without a vast supply of food at the ready. Knowing the paltry ingredients in my fridge weren’t going to cut it, I bought some fancy stuff to make one of those creamy tomato-based pastas with lots of bacon and feta. The results were magical.

…playing cheesy music and cleaning the house. I’d love to be able to have someone clean my flat but for some reason I get a little joy from cleaning it myself. Maybe it’s because I use the opportunity to parade in short shorts and yellow gloves – once a fashionista, always a fashionista – but more likely it’s the fact that I was forced to help my mother clean our house and I haven’t gotten out of the routine yet. Saying that I’m not really a neat and tidy person and there are days when my sink is flooded with dishes. But once I get that feeling, helped on by playing the best and worst of the 80s, I’m in my zone. And all of a sudden I cannot stop until there’s no mildew on the bathroom tiles or until all the wax has been cleared from the mantelpiece. I'd like to admit I'm a cleaning machine but after years of living with her, that title will always belong to my mother.

Your fave all-by-myself pastimes?

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!