Yesterday I burned down my flat.
...oh not actually. Just in my head a thousand times over.
In a much belated celebration of avariel_wings birthday, I met up with that lady, along with rowanberries, bethan_b_bad, requiem2adream and malachan for lunch at the Shakespeare, followed by the matinee performance of Wicked (The Avariel rents paid for my ticket, so it's OK!), after which the plan was to head over to the Innerrents, for the party of celebrating Die Schwester having a zero at the end of her age, staying at the 'rents overnight and returnign to the kitty this morning.
ecause it's a weekend, none of the tubes were working, so I believe I was about halfway to Turnpike Lane on a roundabout type bus route, when I started to wonder if I'd remembered to turn the hob off after cooking my brunch. Then I wondered a little more.Then I worried. The very act of turning the hob off is such an automatic one that one doesn't store memories of having done it on any one day. But I couldn't very well turn around - because that would require getting another bus back and there, and I'd never catch up with the others.
By the time I was half way down the tube, the kitchen had burned down, and I was staving off a panic attack. After using reason to calm myself down, I stuck musicals on iGor to sing along to and tried to put it out of my mind. I had a very good lunch with the folken, and we talked game, and I regaled the story of my anxiety to them.And they all said "oh, IB," in the tone of voice usually reserved for "oh, Will" and they assured me it was impossible for me to burn down the flat and kill the cat by leaving an electric hob on. So that's OK then.
The show was excellent- I've mentioned it before; one of the best musicals in the West End right now, by all accounts - but near the end of the first act I was in tears about having left the hob on and convinced that I should just go home and turn it off and miss the second act. Then I could go over to the 'rents safely.
That was of course crazy thinking. Avarielmum had paid for this ticket, malachan gave up his seat (his fault!) for me. I was being crazy. So I stayed on and planned to phone the 'rents after the show and arrange to meet them at the flat instead, so I wouldn't lose two and a half hours in going up to the flat and back through central Nodnol again.
This, also, is crazy. So I didn't do that either. I swallowed the rising misery went back as scheduled and relayed the account to the 'rents. There was a similar "Oh, IB," combined with genuine concern over my growing anxiety problems (stress related, natch). But by the time I got to Die Schwester's, I was all better and there was grey goose and 'spensive whiskeys and it was nice :-)
And today, when I got back to the flat, was the hob in fact on?
Of course it bloody well wasn't.