A Bed of One's Own (or A Room of One's Onion)

Today I got back from two weeks away and GOD am I glad for the solitude!

This past week, I vacationed with family. Siblings...parents...that sort of thing. You know what I remembered as I spent twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with my family? I remembered why I do not live with, in, on, around, or in the vague vicinity of my family. Don't get me wrong--I do love them! I do...but...but...well, there's only so much family I can handle. This week, I went a little overboard and now I'm feeling the consequences.

It feels a lot like a hangover.

The week before last, I stayed at my girlfriend's house. I love her too. I do...(can you see where this is going?)...and I can spend much more time with her than with my family before I peak in annoyance...but...but...well, Sweet's house is very much her house. It isn't my space. If I'm loading the dishwasher the wrong way, I'm going to hear about it. And, "Why are you chopping the onion like that? No, no. Give me the knife. I'll show you how..."

*sigh*

I do know how to chop an onion. I've done it before, with relatively minor consequences.

Anyhoo...today I'm in my own home, where I can chop onions however I damn well please and load the dishwasher...well, actually, I don't have a dishwasher, so I don't need to worry about that part. But the point is that I'm back in my own space, and not a moment too soon.

I love the people in my life. I love my friends, my family, and most of all my pernickety girlfriend who must have onions chopped just so. Even though I love all these people, I don't want to live with a single one of them. Call me a hermit, but I would go crazy without my solitude.

Virginia Woolf had her room. I have my bed. Yes, I do share it with cats, but cats are much less annoying than people. I'll tell you a secret--I've never liked sharing a bed with anyone. I much prefer sleeping alone.

Waking up beside Sweet is pleasant. I do enjoy watching her dream. Her face is so perfectly beautiful when she's at rest. All the same, I could do without the snoring, the excess body heat, and the ridiculously bad music they play on the radio station she insists on waking up to.

Lone wolf...hermit...crazy cat lady...call me what you will, but I believe in having a bed of one's own.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
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