For the first time since Michael died, I've been alone in the house much of the time. (Andrea's spending the week with her paternal grandparents in Florida.) I've relished being the mistress of my hours, but also dreaded the nights a bit.
Example: I love scrambled eggs, something Andrea's not overly fond of as a dinner item. Last night I made scrambled eggs with a toasted English muffin, a slice of fat free cheese and a glass of milk for dinner. Yum! My "dinner partners" - the dogs - just stared at me and got no leftovers. After a hectic day at the office with phone calls, e-mails and co-workers who gripe about a lot of things, a quiet evening is ever so nice.
The solitude, however, has its drawbacks, especially at bedtime. Years ago, right after college, a man broke into my apartment, jumped on me in bed, and stuck a knife in my side. Fortunately, I escaped further harm, but ever since that incident, I hear every noise in the house and think the worst. Daisy, my lovely little dachshund, has barked her foolish head off every night so far this week just as my head hits the pillow. I don't know what is setting her off. Her barking prompts me to get out of bed, check all the doors, search the house and tell poor Daisy to be quiet. It was so much easier in years past to kick the husband out of the bed to check on things.
Can't blame Daisy. She's just doing her job.
All-in-all it's not too bad though. When Andrea does decide to strike out on her own, I'll be OK. I certainly don't need to sit around every night and watch television - that's acceptable some nights. And I look forward to it. Other nights, I have sewing to get done, quilt guild meetings, church quilt club meetings, friends to meet for dinner, etc. The important thing to remember is I have a choice. And I'm the one calling the shots.