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Also read Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Seven, Eight and Nine.
My husband had gone. I had empty whisky bottles, no batteries in my vibrator and three teenage children going off the rails. My housekeeper, Cecilia, refused to move out. I found her another job and spent my last few pennies on her pension, but she insisted on staying.
She wanted me to find God. I did not want to find God. I wanted to find a way to pay the bills.
I also wanted to play with Apoorva from Pakistan who turned out to be a really good cyber sexer, but first I had to pay the electricity bill.
I advertised for a tenant. Gumtree.
Let me give advice to all fifty something year old women deserting their husbands.
If you have space, find a lodger.
If you advertise on Gumtree, be very careful with your wording.
Single woman seeks tenant.
One bed, one bath, separate entrance.
It will be helpful if you are handy.
Tel – Violet, 089 555 8755.
I had many offers, none of which included a rental.
Until I found Sean. He was fab. So fab, I didn’t think it necessary to have a lease. He moved in, unblocked drains, changed light bulbs and fixed tap washers - all those things I never thought about when leaving my husband.
If I had thought about them, I may have changed my mind. But that’s another story.
Sean believed in God, and he and Cecilia started a soup kitchen for the homeless. I had hobos hanging out in my garden. The neighbors complained about security. We had a few robberies and a vibrator disappeared, but hey, Sean paid his rent, I could buy new whisky, new batteries and even feed my kids.
Sean was one of those disgustingly earthy guys. He made his own stock for the ‘homeless soups’.
One day I came home…
‘Madam, what is this awful smell?’’, Cecilia asked, wearing a surgical mask to protect her from an asthma attack.
‘Ugh, nothing’ I replied, switching on my computer.
We left it, a rotten flesh kind of smell hanging in the air.
Three hours later, Cecilia noticed smoke coming out Sean’s room. She rushed in. I sauntered behind her. Empty. Sean’s stuff was gone. But a pot was on the stove, and there was a fire.
Cecilia jumped into action while I watched. Waving the smoke out her face, she grabbed the pot, switched off the gas, and fanned the flames.
We lifted the lid. Bones. Lots of them. They had been boiling, maybe for hours. Days. Probably a week. When I think back to it, I hadn’t seen Sean for a long time.
The smell was overpowering.
Cecilia cleaned up. She scrubbed and sprayed, while singing Glory Glory Halleluja.
I fled.
I sat with my girlfriends, sipping wine, describing the smell. They all pretended to faint and swoon, secretly sad Sean was gone because they’d also enjoyed his soup. And his muscles.
And so I had to advertise for another tenant. But cleverly, this time.
And Ella moved in. Needless to say, without a lease.
But she was very sexy. And there seemed to be an immediate attraction…
To be continued…
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My husband had gone. I had empty whisky bottles, no batteries in my vibrator and three teenage children going off the rails. My housekeeper, Cecilia, refused to move out. I found her another job and spent my last few pennies on her pension, but she insisted on staying.
She wanted me to find God. I did not want to find God. I wanted to find a way to pay the bills.
I also wanted to play with Apoorva from Pakistan who turned out to be a really good cyber sexer, but first I had to pay the electricity bill.
I advertised for a tenant. Gumtree.
Let me give advice to all fifty something year old women deserting their husbands.
If you have space, find a lodger.
If you advertise on Gumtree, be very careful with your wording.
Single woman seeks tenant.
One bed, one bath, separate entrance.
It will be helpful if you are handy.
Tel – Violet, 089 555 8755.
I had many offers, none of which included a rental.
Until I found Sean. He was fab. So fab, I didn’t think it necessary to have a lease. He moved in, unblocked drains, changed light bulbs and fixed tap washers - all those things I never thought about when leaving my husband.
If I had thought about them, I may have changed my mind. But that’s another story.
Sean believed in God, and he and Cecilia started a soup kitchen for the homeless. I had hobos hanging out in my garden. The neighbors complained about security. We had a few robberies and a vibrator disappeared, but hey, Sean paid his rent, I could buy new whisky, new batteries and even feed my kids.
Sean was one of those disgustingly earthy guys. He made his own stock for the ‘homeless soups’.
One day I came home…
‘Madam, what is this awful smell?’’, Cecilia asked, wearing a surgical mask to protect her from an asthma attack.
‘Ugh, nothing’ I replied, switching on my computer.
We left it, a rotten flesh kind of smell hanging in the air.
Three hours later, Cecilia noticed smoke coming out Sean’s room. She rushed in. I sauntered behind her. Empty. Sean’s stuff was gone. But a pot was on the stove, and there was a fire.
Cecilia jumped into action while I watched. Waving the smoke out her face, she grabbed the pot, switched off the gas, and fanned the flames.
We lifted the lid. Bones. Lots of them. They had been boiling, maybe for hours. Days. Probably a week. When I think back to it, I hadn’t seen Sean for a long time.
The smell was overpowering.
Cecilia cleaned up. She scrubbed and sprayed, while singing Glory Glory Halleluja.
I fled.
I sat with my girlfriends, sipping wine, describing the smell. They all pretended to faint and swoon, secretly sad Sean was gone because they’d also enjoyed his soup. And his muscles.
And so I had to advertise for another tenant. But cleverly, this time.
And Ella moved in. Needless to say, without a lease.
But she was very sexy. And there seemed to be an immediate attraction…
To be continued…
Follow Violet on Twitter
Follow Women24 on Twitter and like us on Facebook.
