The wind is booming in the chimney. The clock ticks. The house sighs and creaks. Silence is so precious to me. It’s a luxury, an indulgence, like lobster, new underwear or a pedicure.
I fucking love when the house is silent. There is nothing I want to hear more. Alone. No needs to meet. No questions to answer. No smile to force.
There is mess. There is a sleeping baby. There is a never-ending list. So much I should be doing. An angry voice in my ear. It comes from me.
Shut up. Let me enjoy my silence.