There is something wonderful about my house at 6 am. Fred came in at 5 and is sleeping in his
chair all curled up, Norman Earl is still in my bed until I drag him out like a
tiny protester. Basement girl is working
and I’m totally alone. The only noise is
the heat turning on and off and wiener dog snoring from the next room. I almost wish I drank coffee so the smell of
that was in the house all comforting like when I was a kid. Minus the smell of smoke and either my mom or
Nana coughing a little.
I bet this is the time of day parents look forward to. Hearing the house all quiet, sleeping kids
and enjoying the calm before the storm.
I have a friend with 5 kids, the last two were twin girls who look like
they are plotting to take over the world.
I bet she would love how quiet my house is today.
I’ve talked to a few people about how much I enjoy
solitude. Most either really get it or
pretend to get it but don’t really. I
think to really get it you have to really be comfortable with not really caring
what people think. I think my love for
being alone is the most comfortable I am
with myself. When I get challenged on it
I tend to get a little defensive about it.
When you have come a long way with being comfort able with yourself,
people challenging you about that difference feels horrible. It’s almost like when you tell people you are
gay and they ask tons of questions like “How do you know? Have you been with a man? No.
Then are you sure?” It’s a little
frustrating. I don’t like defending my
attraction to vagina...or being alone.
I think we all have a little something about ourselves we
don’t want to explain, defend or have judged and even if it is a little fucked
up or not the norm it’s part of us. It
may even be that part of us that we protect the best we can. So I guess my point is before you bust someone’s
balls about a little quirk, maybe make sure it’s not tied into the best part of
their day.
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