So I'm presently sharing a house with someone who has an air freshener fetish. Half a can is sprayed at regular intervals. It's killing me, figuratively and literally.
Some mornings I wake up feeling like I drank four litres of cheap sparkling wine the night before. I do know what that feels like, a terrible chemical taste in my mouth, the inside of my nose hurting, eyes watering, head pounding. All the side effects, none of the fun. I'm being poisoned by modern convenience.
But hey, the rent is cheap.
In just a few weeks I will have my own little home again. The only thing sprayed from a can will be my shaving cream, open windows will take care of the air. I've been living alone for years, this temporary arrangement has reminded me why. I need to be able to choose the air I breathe, in every way.
There is a fair chance I'll always live alone. A tiny space to shower and sleep, a tardis for my mind. Their is space in solitude. It's not just the quality of the air, it is that the air is open space, mine to leave zen empty or to fill with the menagerie of creatures from inside my head.
Simplicity is the essence of creation. It's impossible to create anything in a space where the air itself is full of someone else's rancid particles. Even if I were to live with a lover again I would need one room, one tiny room, with an open window, and the bare essentials, and me. Is that too much to ask? The rest of the house would be hers. Just one room.
It's only three weeks. I think I'll survive the air freshener onslaught. In three weeks I'll have the fresh air of my own space, the real work will begin.