It’s not just the few million ants moving around the kitchen, despite our best efforts to keep them in the roof or wherever they live when they are not cruising the inner recesses of the pantry… the entire house is in flux. As Summer winds to a grinding halt, jumpers that were lovingly hand-knitted in the seventies by post sixties hippies are now rivaling beards in Hipsley Lane. While mums and dad’s bunker down for the colder months, the upwardly mobile are on the move. Right now El Eco and I are the most sedentary of our beloved housemates, which is saying something considering El Eco is heading into the wilderness to sell midnight munchies to the rave crowd in two days and I could buy a ticket to Europe at any moment.
Jewelpunk is off to Hawaii tomorrow so there won’t be a single stray bead in the carpet for at least a month. Then there’s La Dina. She ran off to the tropics with a bunch of raw vegan fruit-bats and the mountain of mangoes and bananas by the front door vanished, along with the blender grinding at 6am, 6pm and midnight. Last but not least, New Housemate is sub-letting and temporary, adding to the fluxiness. To top it off, the landlady has gone walkabout for another year and the agent is hardly ever in her office. Oh, we interviewed three potential new inmates last night who seemed splendid candidates for the empty bedroom. Strangely, they all seem to have totally disappeared. I’m perplexed. Think I’ll talk to the ants.