Here’s a tip. Leave them the fuck alone. I live by myself, because to cohabit with someone would involve handing them a list of rules that would alert them to the fact that they were about to sleep in a house with a lunatic. It would include:

1. Don’t talk to me when I’m reading (and don’t ask me what’s so funny, either. It’s probably only funny to me.)

2. Don’t talk to me if I have a pen and notebook in hand.

3. Don’t talk to me  at the computer, even if I’m not typing and especially when I am.

4. Don’t read my magazines (see previous post.)

5. Don’t try and tidy up after me. I never put things ‘away’ because to me, something belongs where it was last used. If I read books on the couch then there should be books on the couch, because obviously, that’s where they get used!

6. If the house runs out of coffee and/or tea, there may be blood spilled.

7. Bathtub time is sacred, and may well last as long as the tank contains hot water. Find a Dunkin Donuts if you need to pee.

8. There are 8 teacups on the desk because today, I drank 8 cups of tea. That’s my intake problem, not yours.

9. Wear headphones, and preferably, a viewing hood, if you’re going to watch TV. If I’m reading, you can still do whatever the fuck you want, but if you’re watching TV, so is everyone else, and just because I tolerate Don Draper and his gigantic schlong does not mean I want to share your viewing habits.

10. Read all my work and praise it. That’s what all of Hemingway’s wives were for, and I’m not saying it worked out for them or him, but it may be the only way to soothe the lunatic after you’ve done any of the offending items 1-9.


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