I love my sons. I enjoy their company. But I also love being alone. I don’t understand people who hate to be by themselves. The quiet and the freedom to think and do things is fabulous!
Maybe I take other people’s feelings into consideration too much when I’m around them. By growing up in a rooming house, I was taught to consider how much more hot water might be in the water heater before I took a shower. Who was coming home and was the door unlocked? What was needed to be done to make the house and the rooms more presentable?
Besides that, I had a mother who had been crippled by polio. I had to be sure no toys were left on the floor that she might trip over. Things had to be a certain way for the house to “run”.
Maybe that’s why I value being alone so much now. It’s just me. If I want to go turn on the hot water spigot and see if I can run out all the hot water, that’s fine. If I drop something in the floor and don’t instantly retrieve it, I know it’s there. I don’t have to consider anyone but myself at times like this.
I love being alone. I do like company, but not all the time, and I never have turned on the TV to have “noise” so I didn’t feel alone like I’ve been told some people do.
The silence of the house when no one else is home is marvelous! I just wish they’d taken that barking dog with them. I closed my bedroom door and I think the dog finally got the message that she was annoying me. I’d gone and opened the door to the outside so she could see there was nothing to bark at. She did not agree with me, so I came in here and closed the door. Either she realized she was doing the wrong thing, or whatever she was barking at “got her”. Let me go see.
She is fine. She was curled up in a heap of apology at my bedroom door.