Thoughts on a week alone.

I cried when I got home on Sunday night and Mike wasn't here (I mean, not like it was a surprise or anything). I cried because I'd just been on a five and a half hour bus ride after a whirlwind weekend in a city that scares me, with friends I hadn't seen in a long, long time. I cried because it was over and I still had to wait a week to cuddle with Mike and catch up on our weekends apart. But something happened between Sunday night moping and Monday afternoon grocery shopping. I went to Trader Joe's and stocked up on wine and beer and cheese and crackers and came home to watch Gilmore Girls and eat rotisserie chicken and asparagus. I spent my nights cutting sewing patterns and meandering through the library and eating fucking cheese and crackers for dinner if I want with a side of ice cream. And wine. There has been plenty of wine.

You know, this week has been a great recentering for me. It answered the question: what would you do with your time if you had no obligations to anyone else? Even if just for a week. I can't wait for Mike to come home, but this week has reminded me how much I value alone time, how sweet a lamplit, made up bed with two books on it can be. How sitting in silence or blasting music and singing loudly can be just as much fun alone.

Mike comes back tonight. I've stockpiled movies from the library and we have plenty of fix-ins for meals and snacks for the weekend. I'm enjoying my Friday morning in a quiet coffee shop with my last latte + almond croissant indulgence for a while. I look forward to getting reacclimated to having Mike back, but I'm enjoying these last few moments as well.