Home sweet home

In my teen days it would be unthinkable to stay at home on weekends unless I was forced to – until I reached a certain age my grandparents would be very strict with my outings so I would stay home on Saturday afternoons sullenly watching TV, while my friends went to the café or to the movies together. Later on, when I gained some freedom, there would always be some interesting program waiting for me, and no rain or storm would keep me at home.

 

How time, how life changes us! True, on Summer weekends I get restless if I don’t go to the beach, but as Autumn installs itself I feel like staying home, ranging cupboards, exchanging summer dresses for winter coats, organising things, watching movies or tv series or, most of all, editing my book, reliving the story  all over again and adding the most incredible scenes that I hope will improve it even more.

 

I suppose this has to do with my hating the cold and bad weather; if I were an animal I would certainly be of a hibernating kind so, even if I cannot hibernate during the week – the inconvenience of work – I can still do it over the weekend.

 

This was one of such weekends. I felt very tired, so yesterday I barely went out to go to the supermarket as with the boys back the freezer empties itself in no time! In the end I always buy more than I intended to, so I had to come home and carry everything and then range it  – so in the end  I was even more tired!

 

And sleep…it feels so good to sleep knowing you don’t have to wake up early, In fact yesterday (Saturday) I woke up fairly early, brought breakfast to bed and read for a bit and in no time was fast asleep again until noon…not so on Sunday. The boys had to leave for a rugby match outside of Lisbon at eleven, so of course I got up to make them scrambled eggs with toasts for breakfast – they needed the energy!

 

When they went out, I was left with that glorious feeling of freedom, of being able to do with my day exactly what I wanted to. Which I did. I drank some coffee while reading the weekly papers – the usual stuff about politics and economy, that tend to make me sick…then I had lunch and began to watch a series on Netflix called “The Frankenstein chronicles” – it’s a thriller, mixed with some terror, starring Sean Bean (the unforgettable Lord Eddard Stark of Game of Thrones) in the main role, that of a policemen in the gruesome early 19thcentury London, and I truly enjoyed it. I watched one episode and decided it was time to devote myself to my book, which I did, and I spent three hours of true bliss – my God, I didn’t feel time pass – working on some imaginary scenes based on real events on some long ago holidays in Madeira.

 

Then it was dark, and I remembered that the hour had changed today – sunnier mornings, darker evenings. I hate the winter hour, just because I hate almost all about winter, with the only exception of weekends at home and, of course, my fluffy duvet.

 

After declaring myself satisfied with the result of my writing spree again I sat down to watch one more episode of the Netflix series. I texted the boys to know all was well and they were safe and sound. As a plus, they won the match.

 

Soon they were coming in through the door, boisterous and hungry, and ordered their usual Sunday evening Domino’s pizza. Not for me, I had already eaten my healthy muesli with almond milk. Ideal for someone who’ll be tucking in early, as part of my hibernating weekend attitude.

 

I suppose as you get older, and quieter, you enjoy more these moments when you are by yourself and the house is so peaceful. The whole world seems peaceful, in fact, if only for a day or two. I remember a song of the seventies, by Eric Carmen, called “All by myself”, where he sang “I don’t want to be all by myself”. Well, I daresay sometimes it’s the best way to be. Like today. All by myself, what a wonderful time I had. After all, I am my best company. Especially on days like this, when the only place I want to be is at home, sweet home.

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