Home Alone

As I mentioned in my last post, Dan is away for working in South Africa. Suddenly our cozy, slightly crowded apartment seems quiet and unnaturally spacious. There is no sounds of sports television shows reporting on the latest scores or scandals, and no need to put four pieces of bread in the toaster each morning: two will suffice now. I haven't lived alone since my Japan days, where I had a one-bedroom inches away from the heart of downtown smalltown. I liked living alone then. I could get up in the morning, do some yoga or stretches, eat a bowl of imported cereal while catching up on the online version of the Washington Post. After work, I could relax, make dinner for myself, watch DVDs on my computer or cuddle up with a good book. Friends were in my apartment complex, so there was usually someone to talk to. But it did get lonely at times. Being abroad itself was isolating at times, and not having someone to share your day and your meals with was sometimes hard. Living alone in DC is of course not as hard--friends to talk to, work constantly keeping me busy, dinners a bit more make-shift but still substantial. I've delved into the DVD of the second season of How I Met Your Mother, enjoying the 20-minute episodes after a long day of work. But I miss the sports shows.