I Am Blissfully Alone

For the first time since the beginning (and by that I mean the first) of November, I am alone in the apartment. It's nighttime - I checked outside a few times and the moon was still out. Folks, I cannot tell you how pleased I am about this.

I was a bit concerned that Momma would change her mind and come back tonight. And I'm not entirely evil; I told her that if her slumber party was more than she could bear, she should absolutely come back. I even used the word "home".

So what have I been doing on this evening of freedom? Not a whole lot. I've talked on the phone. I've chattered on the internet. I've snuck in a cookie. I'm having a cocktail. But mostly what I've done is be endlessly aware of the fact that I'm alone. It's like I have to constantly remind myself that there's no-one else here. It's a strange feeling. It's a precursor to what my life will be.

And I have to be honest: it's not like I'm lonely, really, but I've become so accustomed to having Momma here that it feels a bit strange to not have her around. It's like I'm not ready to be rid of the emotions I feel when she's around. I'm used to being mildly cranky all the time, to knowing that I'm on call, to being someone else's barometer for her own emotions. I wonder how long it'll take for those feelings to permanently fade when she's gone. I figure it'll take a while.

But I'll tell you this. I'm not wearing any pants.