Single

My days are delightful. Even as the winter breaks his promise of leaving once and for all and the thought of stepping out of the house sends cold chills up and down my spine, I feel content to be here. Waking up to no one but my sweet feline friend, being able to walk to the kitchen to feed her without having to worry about waking another or painting on some morning cheer is a glorious feeling. The days move at whatever pace I chose. Most hours are spent slowly tinkering through thoughts and ideas, jotting them down, working them out. I tend to my basic needs with pleasure and of course, as quickly or slowly as I wish. If there is laundry to be done, I'll get to it. The fridge needs to be refilled, I'll get to that too. A light bulb burns out, the last roll of toilet paper is all gone, the floor is messy, and my gas tank is empty. These things will get done because there is nobody else that will. Such satisfaction in doing things on your own time, without pressure or permission, encouragement or help from parents or partners. Beer in the afternoon or cereal for dinner, whatever it is, it is my own. An afternoon sipping on coffee made just the way I like it, strong enough to wake a dying horse, laying in front of my fireplace, flipping through a magazine or working on another drawing is a perfect afternoon. Time alone, away from this person or that, in my own space surrounded only by sounds that I choose, which is usually silence, is when I feel so completely content with all that I am. I may not be what the world expects of me or may spend my time in ways that some consider wasteful but I find happiness in these simple things. There is true joy in finding myself single in such a crowded world.