Home Alone

The family has left the building. Gone camping. I am blissfully home alone for roughly the next 36 hours. Except for the cat.

Here is how the first evening unfolds:

I go to the market to buy a variety of foods that appeal only to me.

Next, I stop by Blockbuster and rent three movies knowing (but not caring) that I may not even watch them all. (A little walk on the wild side).

I then return home to Silence.

I kiss the cat and change into my pjs.

I make myself a plate of food, open a bottle of wine, put in a movie and begin bonding with The Sofa. The brand new, incredibly comfortable sofa that I have all to myself for the next day and a half. 

I eat and drink this and that in no particular order and watch movies with No Interruptions.

I do, in fact, watch all three. In a row. I stay up until 1:30 or so … because I can. Then I stay in bed until 10:00 the next morning. Again, with No Interruptions.

I remain in my pajamas the majority of the next day.

My husband wondered why I didn’t want to go on the camping trip with them. It would be a great opportunity to spend quality family time after all. I kind of wanted to go. Really. I even miss them. Honestly. I know, too soon, my kids will be grown and gone and I will have more alone time than I will know what to do with. And I may look back on this as a lost chance at family love and togetherness.

But I just couldn’t resist the Me and My Sofa time. Maybe that makes me a lesser mom, a weak and flawed person. Or, maybe, a little bit of alone time will rejeuvenate my Mama power and I will welcome my family with wide open arms. And scoot over to make more room on our sofa.

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