Domesticated - Part Two.

I've come to realise that you learn a lot about your personality when you're left to fend for yourself. (Yes, I only JUST came to this conclusion. Yes, I'm almost 23. Yes, I'm not even in the 'real world' yet. I know all this, so shut it!) Seriously though, it's already been over a week that the house has been practically empty, and I'm sure that the rest of the time will fly by as well. Time always does that when you want it to stand still . . . but that's a topic for another day. Back to me!

I'm a huge procrastinator. This doesn't come as a surprise to me, since I've always been that way - but I'm talking procrastinating about little things, from taking a shower at the last possible minute, to doing my exercise at the last possible minute, to getting up in the morning at the last possible minute. You see the pattern. I really love prolonging things.

I'm a bit of a clean freak. My parents would probably read this and snort laugh out loud, but I don't see why it is so hard for my brother to lift a finger and clean the damn bench when he's messed it up. I hate mess - in the kitchen most of all.  And Ajay has completely stuffed up my laundry system, and therefore needs to be punished.

I'm better on the treadmill. If no-one is sitting next to me watching television while I'm sweating it out, I work harder. I'm doing the Couch to 5k programme at the moment, and start Week 5 tomorrow - running for intervals of five minutes at a time. And I can do it! But the second someone's watching? I turn into an unco-ordinated freak who can't put a foot right.

I'm not that bad a cook. I'm not terribly wonderful in the kitchen, if that's what you're thinking. And it takes me a heck of a lot longer to make things than the suggested preparation times tell me. But I like making things, and I like it when they taste good. Cleaning is a whole other story, however. Isn't there a rule written somewhere that if you cook, you don't have to clean?

I'm really enjoying being alone. In the week, I come home from work, potter around the house, do my walking and start on dinner. I finish the nights off with a book, having a spa or snuggled in bed watching television. And I like it that way! (I suppose this is a good thing, considering I'll have to get used to it as of August the 3rd, bah.) It's nice when it's just me.

That being said, Jase has been fantastic so far - coming over on the weekends to keep me sane company, watching movies with me (I'm never watching Eight Below again, wah, sad!) and humouring my paranoia by making me feel better. But I have to say this firmly - weekends officially suck. Who  decided that there should be five working days and only two days of rest?

Person's a moron.