The Pleasure is All Mine

I say that. I wonder if I mean it.

When I say it, I mean that I'm celebrating the good things about living alone. And there are many. If I want pink ruffly dishes I can have them. If I want to leave lights on in rooms where I am not, no one sighs that sigh. You know the one. I can cook and eat what and when I like. I can have kittens. I can go for adult beverages on Thursday nights and try to drink shots in one drink. (I did it for the first time last week. And it's one shot per week, so don't go getting worried.)

I have many people around. Even though the house is far from ready -whatever that would even mean- there are frequent guests here. I am not lonely. In fact, I find myself craving the quiet times, too -which is a new thing for me.

But I can be such a disappointment, as my ex-husband will surely agree. Have I taken on too much? Was there always this much to do and I just didn't notice because there were two people working at it? I'm supposed to be feeling joy and success and pride, aren't I?

The pleasure isn't all someone else's, but lately I'm not sure it's all mine, either. Just do the next right thing. Never give up; never surrender. All that stuff we say when we know we don't mean it. That's where I am tonight.

It'll pass. Knowing that -if I've learned nothing else in the lsat two years- is a kind of bliss.