Laundretta's Howling

LAUNDRETTA HAS TAKEN to sleeping for the last couple of nights on the first floor landing (that is the second floor to you Americans) outside the bathroom. Yesterday night she lay there one breast exposed, a half-drunk bottle of white wine beside her, using her handbag as a pillow and snoring away. She has been rowing (row rhymes with cow: our word for a marital/relationship "fight") with Matran the Rat Man. Although I dislike him for many reasons he has been strikingly stoical in the face of her acting out. Many many times she slams doors (literally all hours of day and night) bellows his name, insults him, has one-sided conversations (as if anyone listening gives a s---) etc, throws tantrums and worst of all indulges in spates of forced "crying" when she either squeals like a swine trapped by the balls, or a wolf trying out for coloratura soprano operatics. It all sounds very false. I never remarked to myself that there was anything so unusual about this because everyone bar no-one who has ever lived in my house (self included) is deranged in some way. And when they did first move in I was so off the planet in my own little way that other people's 4am howlings... well they barely impinged on my consciousness.

I was most ungracious to my visitors yesterday as they called round in the middle of a personal sulk. Well I don't know what else to call it. I was hibernating today as well, until about 4pm when I finally decamped from the nest I built using duvets etc in the middle of a pile of rugs on the floor (why am I admitting to this? Why do I do it? I don't have an answer to either except I find a lot of beds far too soft.)

So I basically live in a madhouse. I'm only shocked I've managed to come out of there daily so very sane ...