Big roomie is watching
Diary of a homebird
IT was a military operation. The roomies were going on holidays to Dubai, and I was in charge of tickets and looking after the house in their absence.
They are fairly accomplished globe trotters, having travelled to the Middle East, Australia and America before, but they were a little out of practice ahead of this latest excursion over to my brother, his wife and my niece.
The female roomie isn’t the best flyer, but before the eight hour flight her mood was still bright, joking that she and the male roomie might get lost and not get to Dubai at all. Secretly I was worrying this would become a reality.
Once again I was left in charge of the homestead, ensuring curtains were pulled, post taken in and bins put out. Between myself and the Boyf, we managed these tasks, and unlike the last time the roomies went away, no peculiar odours took hold in the dishwasher (takeaways were the choice du jour). On the curtains front, let’s just say any neighbour that didn’t know they were on holidays might be forgiven for thinking the roomies had become reclusive or allergic to sunlight.
Anytime anyone close to me goes on holidays, I dread the holiday update texts. Examples of texts from the female roomie include, ‘Lovely flight. It’s about 38 degrees’. Reading these messages as I trekked to work in the howling winds of May didn’t tend to put me in a good mood, as you can imagine.
But at least while they were gone I wasn’t left feeling totally like Cinders. I jumped at an offer to be wined and dined at Mulranny Park Hotel, and brought my bestie Sharon along with me for the night away. ‘Finally, a chance to reply to the roomies and try to make them jealous’, I thought.
I wrote a detailed message about myself and Sharon’s evening ahead, which included a nine-course meal and an overnight stay. The reply had me both scratching my head and in stitches. ‘Isn’t it great how far the country has come. Ye won’t know yourselves after the Yes vote’. A quick follow up message from the female roomie set the record straight, my big brother had hijacked her phone!
Thanks to technology, the female roomie kept me updated with pictures of my niece Saoirse while on their trip, which was great. However, since she has joined Facebook, she can easily keep tabs on her youngest daughter.
Our newfound ‘online friendship’ means our real-life calls are now peppered with remarks like ‘That comment you had was funny’ or ‘Did you enjoy the sun in Cong?’ (cue me frantically trying to remember when I was in Cong sunning myself).
What’s next? Will the roomies set up their own Instagram accounts? Will the male roomie start taking Instapics of his lunches? What if the female roomie goes on Snapchat? Perish the thought.
Then again, maybe one day, when I properly fly the coop, I’ll crave Facebook interactions with the roomies. For now though, face-to-face conversations will do just fine.
In her fortnightly Diary of a Home Bird column, Ciara Galvin reveals the trials and tribulations of a twenty-something year old still living with her parents.