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Since we all need to season our lives with variety, I usually make a new year’s resolution which ticks over in the background while I focus on something else.  My secondary resolution this year is to always have my home ready for unexpected guests and so be able to extend unreserved hospitality, Eastern style, at a moments notice.  Judging by the events of yesterday morning it should probably have been to get the earlier train to work, a foreseeable consequence of a secondary resolution last year not to worry about time.

At first, it might not seem as though opening up my home and my life to unexpected guests would be a demanding task, particularly since I have already invested in two spare pairs of slippers.  On closer inspection however, much needs to be done.

I should probably start by cleaning everything and getting rid of whatever this is:


Into my freshly sparking abode, I must then introduce the two sofas I was given (in July). The disposal of the broken and unwieldy futon should soon follow. The next logical step would be to relocate the infamous dining table (details of it’s infamy will probably feature in the future) from the bedroom (which used to be the living room) to the living room (which used to be the bedroom). This then means that I will need to fashion some financially sensible seating arrangements for times when dining might be required. I already own an air mattress, which after many minutes of CPR-like compressions, is rather comfortable, but I haven’t yet got any spare bedding.

These are the obvious requirements for extending hospitality. But as everyone knows it’s the little details which make the difference between adequate and sensational. The issue of spare toothbrushes has been attended to as a matter of urgency as I never share and I think people who do are quite simply strange.

The remaining little touches include toiletries, having basic foodstuffs available to meet a variety of dietary requirements and a fully stocked liquor cabinet to suit a majority of preferences. Spare pyjamas and possibly even unopened packets of underwear in a selection of sizes are further possibilities.

I may regard the effort required as unappealing but all this pales in comparison with the work it would take to make me a social creature.  Having suffered from a variety of anxiety disorders since birth, the necessary rearranging of internal furniture is an almost Herculean task.  I have no understanding of the little nuances of body language language and conversation that would put my guest at their ease in my humble abode.  Instead I hover nervously and wince at every insignificant act which contravenes my compulsive sense of order.  After all, how do I know that for those few minutes, while the bathroom door is closed, they are not sneakily rearranging the cabinet or desecrating the “one careful owner” bristles of my toothbrush?

So you see, I can throw a duster around the place as much as I like but it will never purge such inadequacies.  Instead I must turn to Derren Brown for help.  Much soothing advice can be found in the pages of his “Confessions.”  After a year of taking heed, who knows where I’ll be.

Karma points for putting the washing machine on after 11pm: -1

General responsibility points for not cleaning up the mash and gravy immediately: -2 (1 grp per day, so far…).

CRPs for starting a new course for my job: +1

Fitness points for eating half a veggie stuffed crust pizza for dinner: -4

Total so far:

  • Karma: +1
  • FRP: +22.2
  • Relationships: 0
  • Family: 0
  • Friends: 0
  • Career: +2
  • Fitness: -4
  • General: -7