The House

Chapter 39 - Day 4: Domestic Bliss and Stuff

Driving home through the state-owned forest, the reality that David and I are currently living on an island finally started to sink in. The road we were on does not lead to other farms and homesteads, it leads to mountain hiking trails, picnic spots and beautiful views.

We are well and truly cut off from civilisation... at least physically. For as long as the dodgy signal holds (we are both surprised that it hasn't fully crashed yet), we are not completely isolated.

Craig said that when he heard about the storm and the flood on the news and couldn't reach me on the phone, he got into his car and drove as far as he could, which was Misty Falls. He is not going home right away because they need all the help they can get to evacuate people to safety.

I haven't heard that kind of sense of purpose in his voice for a long time. As horrible as the situation is, I hope being useful and making a difference take my cousin out of his slump and place him on an upward spiral back to the dynamic guy he used to be.

When we arrived home, David made us a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, cheese, and coffee. We have unanimously decided that he should do all the cooking for as long as we're here. Well, I unanimously decided it, and he accepted. I have plenty of long-life milk and instant just-mix-and-bake bread, but things like eggs, tomatoes and onions are unfortunately going to run out fast or rot if we don't use them.

Cheese! I'm going to cry when the cheese runs out...

David mentioned that he has occasionally run into some stray chickens on the farm and will round them up if he can find them again. They might be happy to be rescued from the storm, but he'll have to repair the coop first, or they'll all be scattered again in minutes. He's not sure where they came from. They're probably descendants of rogue chickens from the farmer's days.

Well, as long as they're happy to give us some eggs, we'll be happy to feed them, and they can be as rogue as they want to be.

Standing outside at the washing line in the area near the kitchen door, my eyes stray to where David is working to de-bush the various paths leading from the back of the house to the greenhouse and the paved area at the front of the yard. He is currently working near the kitchen, and I cannot stop looking at him. I can also not stop the stupid smile constantly creeping onto my face. 

The man sure knows how to use gardening tools in a very pleasing way...

Sighing, I wring the water out of the garment I've taken from the basket of washed clothing at my feet. I give it a shake to smooth it out and pin it to the washing line. In a matter of hours, we've become a quaint domestic couple, with the husband doing the heavy lifting and manual labour while the little wife cleans the kitchen and washes the laundry.

How sweet!

I look at the black underwear flapping wetly in the wind and suppress a laugh. I've known the man for less than 24 hours, and I'm already washing his briefs. How is that for progressiveness?! Or is it regression? Well, he did handle my panties about two minutes after meeting me; this is not weird at all! 

This might be a very good relationship-starting technique. Forget about speed dating; speed-shacking up in a spooky house will be all the rage as soon as I market it. You get to know each other's bad habits in record time. David already knows that I freak out when clocks spit at me, and rooms disappear, and he has hidden the fire poker from me.

I, on the other hand, have become fully aware of the fact that he has the audacity to sit at the kitchen island looking so friggin' yummy, and then I'm expected to eat nothing but the food on my plate. The man is a menace.

It's perfect!

"We need a washing machine! This is just bullshit!" I groan, wrestling with the jeans David was wearing yesterday. I've washed our paint-streaked pyjamas as well, but as predicted, not even thinners could make the streaks budge.