Works for me Wednesday: Flying Solo

In college, I was a pack animal. I lived right next door to two of my best girlfriends; a third lived down a flight of stairs. Two bangs on the wall meant, are you awake? A bang back meant yeah, you wanna eat?

 

We shared clothes, deodorant, blankets. We didn’t knock. We were on top of each other all the time until we became a unit, a knot tied too tight to even think about pulling apart. Alone time wasn’t an option—and we liked it that way.

 

As we’ve all gone our separate ways, though, I’ve come to realize that I like having some time to myself. I think I actually need it. I love hanging out in my empty apartment a couple of nights a week while Leprechaun is at work, reading or writing or knitting or experimenting in the kitchen. I like the quiet, the chance to hear myself think. Corny as it sounds (and I HATE corny things) I’m getting to know myself a little bit better—and mining my creativity in the process.

 

And that works for me.