Weekday mornings my mum will find me straddled across my bed in a semi-conscious state. Since A-levels finished, I’ve lost all sense of decency when it comes to acceptable waking hours, completely ignorant that the rest of the working world generally tends to leave the house by 8am. She’ll give me a gentle nudging and whisper something along the lines of “see you later, darling”, none of which i remember by the time I’ve reawaken. Usually, I’ll rock out of bed anywhere between 10am and 2pm, joking that I’m “living the student dream” in attempts to mask the fact my daily routine appears to closely resemble that of a Jeremy Kyle guest. By the time I eventually have emerged from my room, the house is empty- I live with my mum, Gill, and brother, Guy. He may as well not live with us though, as whenever he’s not at school or out with mates, segregates himself in his room with his Xbox for company. We’re still really close though, like one of those irritating brother/sister combo’s that have so many ‘in’ jokes that we rarely have a sensible conversation. We used to have a border collie, Casper, until he died 5 months ago. It really was like losing a family member, and as we’re quite a small family unit anyway it affected us all particularly badly. Recently though, mum keeps on saying she’ll need to get a new family dog and call it Maddy, as my replacement for when i go to University.
Lunchtime doesn’t really exist with me. It could just be a side-effect of my confused body clock, but the concept of a substantial meal before 6pm to me all seems a little peculiar. Instead, I’d rather pick, “graze like a cow” as me and my mum put it. And cakes. I love baking cakes. Any excuse- a birthday, anniversary, as a token thank-you gesture, and before you know it I’ll be out in the kitchen whipping up a Victoria sponge. How my family isn’t overweight still remains somewhat of a mystery to me. Because of this little obsession, I’ve convinced myself that I’m somewhat of a domestic goddess, joking that one day I’ll make a fat old man a good housewife- when in reality, I can’t actually cook a proper balanced meal, I detest cleaning, have no maternal instincts, and have never operated a washing machine in my life.
Daytimes generally feel like a bit of a waste to me. Last year, I was accustom to dashing off to open events, attend carnivals and photo shoots, meet the mayor...but this summer I feel like I have a void in my life and now I’m unsure of how to productively fill it. I spend a ridiculous amount of time getting ready though. I know everyone always mocks the average female preening time, but regardless of whether I’m popping out for groceries or preparing for a big night out, I’ll easily spend 2 hours in front of the mirror. I can’t get ready without music either. Id describe my musical taste as eclectic- I don’t like to limit myself to a specific genre or have a favourite artist, I’ll just overhear a song on TV, in a film, on the radio, and become infatuated with it for a day or two. I seem to have a relatively short attention span, and I guess the contents of my mp3 reflect that.
I have a part time job as a waitress at a local restaurant called the Pizza Cafe. Because it’s the only place in Newton Abbot that isn’t a pub/Indian/Chinese it’s always really busy, and especially popular amongst families and teenagers. I do about 3 evening shifts per week there. And like most places, we have our regulars. I always laugh to myself and think “I’ve worked here far too long!” every time I can take down someone’s order before they’ve even told me it. Similarly, I’ll always remember which customers are good tippers, and give them that extra scoop of ice cream or extra potent measure of gin and tonic accordingly.
Most nights will end in a similar way: I’ll trance into either an alcohol or food induced comatose state the moment my head hits the pillow. For someone with such a stress free lifestyle, my body appears to be operating under the illusion that anything less than 10 hours sleep per night is a detriment to my health- perhaps it’s an innate self-defence mechanism slyly storing up rest in preparation to the anticipated debauchery the joys of University shall bring come September.
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