Purple Realm

I drift into peaceful sleep.

I awake naturally. No abrasive sounds, no tremors as the front door slams, just the sounds of people passing and birds singing.
I look across to my right. He's sleeping. I don't have to worry about waking him up, because I can leave - our lives are no longer led from the confines of one tiny room.

Padding to the bathroom, I notice just how clean it is. I don't have to wait for it to be vacant, nor wonder what disgusting remnants strangers have left behind, because it is mine.
Passing the humming freezer in the hall, I note that it is not in a very convenient space - but far preferable to when it used to click and whirr just a few inches from where I used to rest my head at night.

The light's streaming through the kitchen window. The sink empty of other's dishes, mine sloppily stacked up, I pour some water into the kettle and start making breakfast.
I open the fridge door and smile. Not only does everything in there belong to me, but my food is exactly where I left it. Untouched, unpoked, unstolen. The vegetable drawer is full, as are the shelves. We no longer need to survive on £7 a week, and I am able to eat many fresh things we could not even dream of affording before.

Breakfast in hand, I go into the living room. I'd never had one before. I place my food on my coffee table and turn on the television. Glancing at the bookcase, I take stock of all the media we possess. I pick out a DVD and place it into the DVD player to watch something while I wake.
I look around at the chairs, the computer, the pretty mugs left from last night's supper, and smile once more. The days of selling our possessions for luxuries like.. Well, cake, are over.

I feel a little more awake, so I return to the kitchen to do the dishes. Nobody disturbs me. Nobody tuts or makes irritated noises, because it's my kitchen.
Duties of the morning fulfilled, I return to the bedroom and wake him. Coffee made, cereal laid out, I tell him his food's waiting on the coffee table by his chair, rather than try to scrape some food together as we eat on the bed. Crumbs go on plates and on the floor now, not all over the bed.
The letterbox rattles - that's fine. No more mad dashes to get my post before it's stolen. It can sit there a while.

I return to the bedroom and open our large wardrobe to select some clothes for the day. I have more than one top for each day of the week now, so it takes a little longer to choose.
Later, I decide what we'll have for lunch and we prepare the food with time and care. The chicken may roast without an eye having to be on it constantly, and when it's cooked we can leave what's left covered over to cool - we don't have to strip the carcass and hide the leftovers before we eat.

Later in the afternoon, I decide to bake. Something else previously impossible, I lovingly create delicious treats by my own hand, a grin on my face.
A little after that, I curl up on the sofa under a warm blanket. Perhaps I play a game, do a puzzle or go online. It's my choice, and it's my place.
I take a long, hot shower in a clean tub. Nobody's waiting impatiently for me to finish, nor do I have to make a mad dash through a strange hall to my room so that people don't see me - the curtains in the lounge room are closed and so I stroll, naked, to find my favourite coconut moisturiser to keep my skin soft.

We curl up together and watch a movie. Nobody knocks on the door of the room, nobody disturbs us at all. We get to watch an entire film without interruption.
A little later, we retire to the bedroom - though not to sleep. Things are far more apt now that we don't share three walls with three other households.
My day done, I relax with a hot chocolate or green tea and read or watch a little more comedy.
I brush my teeth, say goodnight and leave to read a little in bed before I sleep. We don't disturb each other - there is no longer television in the bedroom - so I proceed to say my prayers, and read a little of my current novel while he plays a game in the next room.

I drift into peaceful sleep.

They say that we learn something new every day.
But what happens if, one day, you awake, and you find there's nothing to be learned?
Who will teach you?
Who will lead you?
In the name of all that is stupid and pointless in this world of necessity and streets paved with crap, just who shall push you facefirst into a pool of sludgy brown knowledge? Who will forcefeed you your spoonful of needed randomosity? WHO?!
Fear not, citizens, for Kimmie shall provide for one whole day, twelve times a year!

October's Fact:
The only state in the USA to never have had an earthquake...

Is North Dakota.

Words are an integral part of our lives. We use them to communicate with others, and do to this, we need to learn.
Whether we splatter our words across someones face in weather-forecast glory, smash our heads into our keyboards with unbound typed fury or use safer, saner methods of conversation, expanding one's vocabulary is something I think we should all aim to do, so we may convey our emotions and describe things to others more fluidly.
I have taken it upon myself to teach you. It is your decision to learn, and yours only.
Are you sitting comfortably?
No?
What do you want, princess, a gilded cushion for your dainty chapped cheeks? Fucking tough!!
Anyway, I'll begin.

Okay, so what's the word? Bumblesquat.
How do you pronounce it? Bum-bull-sk-wott.
What does it mean? Well, this is where it gets interesting. "Bumblesquat" is actually a mispronunciation of the word, "Bumbasquat", a word invented by a comedy tv show as an alternative to the word of its origin, "Bumbaclat," which is your basic exclamation word, as you would use "shit!", "geez!", "argh!" et cetera. I use the mispronunciation of the made-up version because I modify all possible swears for Grum-friendly use.
In what context do you use it? Well, I pretty much explained it, but mainly I actually use it as a form of insult, ie:
"What did you do that for, you bumblesquat?"
"I told him to leave it but he just wouldn't listen. I know, he's such a bumblesquat!"
But it's more commonly used as an exclamation.
So, next time you're around swear-sensitive peoples and you stub a toe or drive a clawhammer through your eye by accident, you may find yourself with a new word to your "safe-swear" vocabulary.
Or not.
Bumblesquat.
(Hey, that rhymes)

Go away now.