On My Own

Over the summer I had the flat to myself for about 5 days. My flatmates were gone (one living out of the back of a van somewhere in England, the other spending the week in Scotland) and I was left to my own devices.

The first few days were nice and relaxing, since I think I needed some quality alone time. I spent the time walking around town, drawing, and going to the cinema alone. Once the fourth day came around, though, I began to struggle. Having no wifi, phone service, books I that I hadn't read, and having reached the point where if I drew one more Hipster I would kill myself, I decided the best use of my time was to knit a scarf.

I walked to the shop down the street and bought two thingies of yarn. But somehow I had forgotten how to start a scarf in the past few days, and the yarn turned into a giant knot. Seriously. I don't know how. I started pulling it out, and before I knew it, the yarn had gotten all tangled and tied up. 

For the next two hours I tried untangling the yarn. But I hardly made a dent. 

So I gave up after remembering that I had bought two thingies of yarn. I got the other one and made sure to carefully roll it into a ball. After a few tries, I finally remembered how to start the scarf.

About an hour into the scarf, I had a reality check. I realized I was sitting on my bed alone...

...on a friday night...


...listening to SHOW TUNES.

I was a few doilies away from being a crazy cat lady.

Disturbed after catching a glimpse of my possible future, I quickly shut off the music, set my knitting aside, and left to get some dinner at the Fish and Chips shop down the street.

Extra-vinegary chips in hand, I headed back home about 15 minutes later. It was getting darker, and I got a little nervous, mostly because I had no phone and if I had disappeared nobody would have noticed for like...a week.

As I walked quickly home, the already-shady underbelly of Cardiff proved itself to be downright terrifying.

Against all logic, I ran the rest of the way home, knowing that the scary graffiti was probably just all talk, but still not wanting to end up like Owen.

Back inside, I quickly locked and secured every possible entry way, including drawing the curtains in every room.

But because I had also attached my clothesline to the curtain-rod, the extreme weight of wet clothes combined with the force with which I pulled the curtains, caused the curtain rod to come clean off the wall and onto my head.

Covered in drywall and paint chips, I climbed in bed with the intention of sleeping my memories away. 
But because there were no longer any curtains on my window, I was rudely awakened by an unusual phenomenon that I had not experienced in years.


I manically searched the room for something to cover the window with, but I couldn't find anything big enough. A second later, I spotted a scarf I had bought laying on the ground. It was the perfect sun-shield.

Feeling much better, I went back to sleep....

...only to wake up in confusion around 2 PM, my hair sweated to my face where the scarf had been.

Later that day, my flatmate Mariah got home from Scotland. Boy, was I happy to see her.