Monday, June 4, 2012


I have never in my life spent a night in my house alone. The first time I ever spent the night anywhere alone I was housesitting for family friends from church who fondly (sort of) call the row house next door the "house of ill repute" because of the working girls they apparently see there. That night was rather surreal between the sleep deprivation, fried oreo coma, bamboo sheets, and Their Eyes Were Watching God recording. I was watching the cats Gordon and Weaver, and the greyhound Bea (short for Beast). I can still count on my fingers the number of nights I've spent alone, now at three different houses none of which are my own. Then I headed to college where you are never alone...ever...ever. I came back and pretty soon was housesitting and alone again. I won't say I don't get kind of nervous when I hear funky noises, because I definitely do, but I'm also not uncomfortable. But I was laying in bed in an empty house this Saturday and realized I don't know that that will ever feel right. I suppose I've always just (reasonably) assumed that I'd always have roommates until I was living with a significant other (which, let's be real, is just a vamped up roommate). I don't feel like I ever want to live completely alone, and then, thinking that, I realized I don't think I want to get to the end of my life and find I've never lived alone. I suppose it's one of the bridges I'll cross when I come upon it, but for now it's a strange thought. I don't think people really plan for the intermediate future. I plan for the immediate future...right now I am going to school and getting internships and working. And I plan for the distant in some modern apartment in a foreign city with someone I love. But what goes between here and there? No one really seems to think about that. 

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