On my own in the house with the cat this week while my wife's away on business. Coming home from work with no-one else but the fuzzball underfoot, I feel like Lister aboard the Red Dwarf -without Rimmer, Kryten, the dreadlocks and the curry stains, that is. Alone in a godless universe and running low on Lays ketchup chips.
Or maybe we're more like Mr. Passenger and his cat from The Secret Railroad - minus the transdimensional steampunk adventures and without Simon tagging along. (Yeah, yeah, some of you will call me on this one saying that it was Mr Passenger who was actually Simon's sidekick, but tell me how far that kid would have got in his rescues of Stella without Mr Passenger and Melanie the cat to rely on? Besides, my theory du-jour is that Mr Passenger may in fact have been Simon himself in his old age having travelled back in time to help his younger self!) Then again, I'm not that old (yet) and I'm missing the funky stovepipe hat.
While she's away, I've put on hold our Doctor Who re-watching marathon (we just finished series 1 with the 9th Doctor the other day). Instead I'll resume watching the British series Merlin (thanks to Steve for the loaner), which I was about half-way through before other stuff pulled my attention away. Then on to Krod Mandoon (another nod to Stevage). That being said, she's become quite the fan of SF and it's always fun to geek-out on the couch with her in front of one of our favourite series. Temporary bachelordom isn't what it's cracked up to be.