3 days

I am dreading the next three days. I usually don't mind being alone, and I like to think that after having survived aloneness like a hermit for years then I can survive anything. And of course I will survive three days. I am just not looking forward to being home alone that's all. This is the girl who survived more than 3 years of home alone. And yet I'm not going to like the next 3 days. I'm afraid that they will stretch out like 3 decades. I will be busy. Taking care of so many pets is hard work, but I still am not looking forward to coming to an empty house. Well ok I always come home to an empty house but come 5pm, it's not empty anymore. And I know it is so very silly, but I cannot help it. I guess I've settled in in my ways somehow. And it comes to me as a shock too.

Daddy's Girl

I am up. Of course today is one of the days I do not drag myself out of bed, because it's Saturday and since I can afford a late start on a Saturday then my body clock decides it's ok to get up early. Shit. But I am seeing a pattern, if I had to start working at 9am I think I'd be all right. Because that is what my body clock has been used to doing for 16+ years. And my body just cannot shake that half hour. Well, I'll keep trying, I always manage somehow, but I wish I didn't just manage but make it easily. I can only console myself that I am not perfect and this is something which seems to be a family thing inherited from my dad's side. I've inherited everything from my dad's side of the family. And it seems I'm the only one, I'm going through cousins and cousin offsprings, and lo and behold I'm the only one. People think my twin looks like my dad, but they are so wrong. My twin has just copied his mannerisms, that's all. I will never need a DNA test to see if my dad is really my biological dad. We have the same teeth, the same hair, our nails grow in exactly the same way, we share the same nail bed, we will start eating from exactly the same thing placed on a plate in front of us, we sleep in the same position with the same hand under our head hugging the duvet in exactly the same way. And yes dad was also big. I have faint memories of this man who would crawl with us on the floor, playing horsey, and we would get on his back and urge him on. Oh dear, if I tried doing that now it would be devastating for him. But I remember the man who spoilt me rotten, a man who would caress my curls and call me his little princess. And he was so comfy, so soft. Not so now. It's hard to imagine my super-slim dad with a 50 inch waist. But that's where it is all coming from. I also wonder how I came about, I mean, I'm talking about a big man with a 50inch waist and a woman with a 22 inch waist. And that didn't crush her to death hmmmm. Tiny mum who has always been tiny. But I'll always be my dad's girl somehow. I'm not sure as to why. I suppose that face that I was the first-born girls in five generations somehow helped... and I'll always be glad that they never had another little girl, or boy.