So here I am unleashed on the property for the next couple of weeks.
All alone, except for the monkee.
I have a nebulous plan to deal with the house room by room and turn it into a Frankenstinian aberration. The thoughts of any man left alone for a while naturally turn to those things of which we can only dare dream about in our Super Ego controlled moments of abject humdrum servitude, but I have found it all to be somewhat hollow at the end of the day.
Maybe I'm not happy to be a bachelor boy until my dying day (which would probably not be that far away in any case if I really did do what my imagination sometimes leads me to consider doing) after all, but actually seek the comfort of a pair of soft slippers and a sharp tongue.
Whatever the case, I have plundered my meagre resources to go on a crazy adventure to the Dark Continent, with nary a clue as to what will become of me when I return (let alone get there) so at least I can say I have lived a little.
And I have not wasted a red cent on Johnny Mathis albums. So there!