These Are The Longest Nights.
Although I'm used to being alone, I'm not used to being home working all the time. It's a new kind of alone.
I’ve been alone more than I’ve not been alone. That isn’t even up for debate. It hasn’t really ever bothered me too much in the grand scheme of things.
The middle of the week, though, starts the slowdown in traffic on my column, and my social media sites, and pretty much every other area where I interact with people outside of my neighbors. I won’t lie, it makes for some lonely nights.
I really don’t mind being alone. Really, the dogs take care of that, because they’re a barrel of monkeys and you can’t ever really feel alone when pitbulls are snoring next to you. Puffin makes these little pig noises, and sort of purrs, so she is the PiggyCat. These are the things I know and have names for because I spend so much time, just them and myself.
It was different, though, leaving here every day and interacting with the world at large. It was my source of entertainment, my insight into just how fucked up the public is as a whole. Now, I get my dose at the corner store, or the grocery store once every two weeks when my lack of half n half declares that I simply have to. I don’t necessarily miss it until the midweek hits.
I know in a couple of days, it will be back on the uptick and I won’t hear the silence that is reverberating around me. If I don’t break it into hours, it’s not that much space to fill. It only seems lonely today. Give me 15 minutes arguing with a dumb ass on the internet tomorrow, and I’ll be right back to being thankful for this level of silence.