Day 322: Acting Like an Idiot

Aaah. Today was excellent.

I didn’t manage to get up particularly early, but I had curly, luxurious half-sleep in the morning that was worth reveling in. I reveled. That’s not a euphemism (Sandison!). Straight-down-the-line, cocoony reveling. That’s all.

I was late for my accommodation visit, to be shown round an empty office building that needed guardians. The woman from Newbould Guardians was still there and she was lovely. She showed me round even though she’d waited a bit. She was very personable. I thanked her for that. I appreciated it massively. I’ll certainly stay on their books, even though right now, I don’t need a place. I must email her tomorrow.

On my keyring, I have an extra key. I’m about to move into a flat in Muswell Hill, on Queen’s Lane, which is kind of an alleywayish place that runs along the back of all the restaurants on the Broadway. It’s fab. It has lime green and bright orange in the kitchen. There’s a shed and a railing where the bike could go. It’s a little bit exciting. I might even leave things like my empty bags in the shed. That’s a good use for one too, isn’t it? I was wondering where they might go. I have bookshelves in this place, lots of them. One of them may have to be dedicated to masks. And I have a double bed (wheeeeeee!) and a huge mirror and a conveniently-sized desk.

There is a TV in the house, but as always, I’ll pretend there isn’t. I’m getting used to doing that, and to failing at it occasionally. That’s all good. When I went round there tonight, I was all set to not be moving in. I know I may be away for more than a month in December/January. I thought it might be a big problem. However, it seems that my lovely new housemates are cool with that, whatever it means. All I have to do now is actually move. Good. I shall, then. And I can do it with a wheely bag and a shopping trolley from Sainsbury’s. That’ll do the trick.

Oh, and this evening, I finally went to Acting (Like An Idiot), the clowny play group run by the delightful Mr Damien Warren-Smith. He is a really good Australian egg, that one, and a very pleasing clown. He’s into playing and we had a really great time. He ran it well. Gently, clearly, firmly.

And now, as I settle down and strap in for some good old cheese dreams, I bid you a night as good as my day and a healthy dose of softness. Night, then.