The Private Parts
As time continues its relentless march, we learn how to adapt to new situations and surroundings (or we do not, which is another, much sadder sort of story). And over the past few months I’ve learned a few survival techniques as an adult border in this home.
Small things. Wee compensations and artful dodges that have sprouted organically, even subconsciously rather than being the results of any intentional, intellectual planning on my part.
Take today, for example. Wednesday. You see on Wednesday, my familial landlords have an even more specific schedule than usual. While Wednesday joins Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday in its ritualistic To-Do list, Wednesday provides your scribe with more at least quasi privacy than any other day of the week. They depart by 11AM and do not return until approximately 3PM.
Ahhhhh….
For the first couple if not few weeks, I would accompany them on their rounds today as well as on the other days that involved any leaving-of-the-house. But realizing that dad was still capable of driving (at least in the daylight, on surface roads) also made me realize, again subconsciously at first, that I was nuts. I should stay home. And be totally, blessedly alone.
I have adapted. I have learned thanks to a surprisingly well-tuned survival instinct to wave them a fond goodbye and, their car cresting the horizon, get down to some rare business of my own.
Nothing crazy. Just a long, hot bath followed by scrupulous personal grooming. Maybe cracking open a beer or three. Even hanging around naked for an hour or two (though “hanging around” in this case might be an unfortunate choice of phrase). While thusly cleaned, groomed, cocktailed and naked the only Kryptonite my Superman must avoid is the living room, with its front-facing wall nearly 100%, thinly draped window. Because believe me when I say there is no one or nothing in the immediate area that would inspire my admittedly exhibitionist tendencies.
The only trouble with this brief brush with personal freedom is that, like most good things, it comes to an end. So I sign-off now in preparation of that ending…
Specifically, my few but faithful Illuminaughties, it's time to get some clothes on.
Small things. Wee compensations and artful dodges that have sprouted organically, even subconsciously rather than being the results of any intentional, intellectual planning on my part.
Take today, for example. Wednesday. You see on Wednesday, my familial landlords have an even more specific schedule than usual. While Wednesday joins Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday in its ritualistic To-Do list, Wednesday provides your scribe with more at least quasi privacy than any other day of the week. They depart by 11AM and do not return until approximately 3PM.
Ahhhhh….
For the first couple if not few weeks, I would accompany them on their rounds today as well as on the other days that involved any leaving-of-the-house. But realizing that dad was still capable of driving (at least in the daylight, on surface roads) also made me realize, again subconsciously at first, that I was nuts. I should stay home. And be totally, blessedly alone.
I have adapted. I have learned thanks to a surprisingly well-tuned survival instinct to wave them a fond goodbye and, their car cresting the horizon, get down to some rare business of my own.
Nothing crazy. Just a long, hot bath followed by scrupulous personal grooming. Maybe cracking open a beer or three. Even hanging around naked for an hour or two (though “hanging around” in this case might be an unfortunate choice of phrase). While thusly cleaned, groomed, cocktailed and naked the only Kryptonite my Superman must avoid is the living room, with its front-facing wall nearly 100%, thinly draped window. Because believe me when I say there is no one or nothing in the immediate area that would inspire my admittedly exhibitionist tendencies.
The only trouble with this brief brush with personal freedom is that, like most good things, it comes to an end. So I sign-off now in preparation of that ending…
Specifically, my few but faithful Illuminaughties, it's time to get some clothes on.