All by myself

After all this time, it's strange being alone in the apartment. It's different from being alone on the road, when I have a mission, distractions of travel, food to taste, and new surroundings to interest me. Home alone, however, is not a state I come back to easily. I've always been a mite scared of the dark, and loud, startling noises in a suddenly echoing apartment quickly lead to raging cases of the creeps. Sharing a one-bedroomed apartment hasn't been easy, but one of the consequences of success in living in such tight quarters (Yeah! I never thought it would last this long! Go tolerance!) is that the space feels hideously large and lonely when I am the sole tenant. And separation during the cold winter months - with no one to snuggle and no warm body to bury my freezing feet under - is especially painful.

On the other hand, I get to live like I have no parents. Late, novel-filled nights, terrible food (velveeta mac!), unmade beds, TV blaring, loud country music wailing in the background, clothes strewn about, not having to answer for my where- or when-abouts, no set meal times, and no harassment in the morning...

It's heaven and hell, all at the same time.