Being on holiday

Following Sunday’s Daily Prompt, I kind of did walk into my flat for the first time on Saturday – and I’d say that someone very house-proud lived there. It was tidy, smelt clean, and hardly looked lived in. I get really freakishly nervous about leaving it tidy when I go on holiday. I just hate the idea of coming back to a mess, I cleaned everything – except the spare room. I left that – because I can just close the door.

But it’s funny how being away for a long time can leave you with a different perception of where you live. For example, I was at my Mom’s house for a week, then in San Francisco for a week, then in Mexico for a week. You forget little things, like whether we left the light on or whether I did put the timer switch on – did I do the washing up, or did my Mom make herself a coffee while she was checking the flat for us? I couldn’t remember where I’d put stuff, because I’d put in different places than usual because it was going to be empty for three weeks, where are my front door keys? My car key? The external hard drives? Because let’s face it, you’re not exactly going to walk into the room knowing nothing about the people that live there unless you are a robber…

The table is spotless, that’s not normal, usually it’s covered in post, magazines, our phones and anything else we can’t be bothered to put in it’s proper place when we’ve finished with it. Then there’s nothing in the fridge except margarine, jam and a few onions – classic sign of an uninhabited house. So we popped to Marks for our usual Sunday Night Game snacks – pre-prepared sandwiches and crisps. Daniel smothers his with Valentina salsa from Mexico, bleugh!

But hey, I proper love being on holiday!

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