A good sweaty chunk of the spam I receive informs me that there are bored house-wives waiting to meet me. Having been a house-wife (house-spinster) for some weeks, I personally can’t see that a house-wife could ever be unfulfilled. Yesterday I spent about two and a half hours (between chores and doing a friend’s university coursework for him) popping in and out of a sauna, where lively debate held court. A broad range of subjects was discussed, including whether or not Christina Aguilera is dirty, filthy, or scrofulous. I think we settled on disheveled, or having the appearance of someone who unexpectedly awakens on an uncomfortable bench of a public park in the early hours with a rat gnawing at their toes.
Today I cooked and dirtied, all the better to clean again afterwards. My first ever session of Pilates followed, in which I tried to observe the instructor while keeping my hips neutral and my stomach and chin tucked in. Then I went to get a set top box so that I could watch ‘up to 30’ free digital television channels. If you’re going to be a house-spinster, get lots of entertainment set up, I say. And eat a meal every 90 minutes to keep that blood sugar up. And then I ordered broadband so that I really will have no problem frittering away many hours of winter in the Midlands. I always knew that spam was nonsense.