By Georgia Horrocks
I didn’t see it straight away but the signs were there. It had become serious.
At first it was the salt. Tiny little packets of the stuff scattered around my flat. Two packets were discovered in the bathroom by my Flatmate, dismissed as remnants from the night before. But then a few weeks later I unearthed one in my makeup bag. By the time one stuck itself onto a guest’s behind I could barely be bothered to explain.
Meanwhile my own salt supplies are dwindling and my fridge looks like it’s being stocked by a 5 year old with a tendency towards cheese-based snacks.
Then there’s the Alien clothing thats taken residence in my wardrobe: a Ralph Lauren jumper, a grey shirt I wouldn’t be caught dead in and a headband fashioned from a dead raccoon.
It goes without saying that my toothbrush is never alone. In fact, it seems to enjoy being snuggled up to it’s new pink friend.
This Friday, I left my partner sleeping so I could catch an early morning flight. Whilst sipping on a creepy coffee, I caught myself wondering if I ought to get Clarissa a key.
Yes, I’ve fallen into a very serious relationship and this Valentines Day I’m feeling rather smug.