One (Singular Sensation).

Alone.  Alone.  A.  Lone.  Alone. 

It’s one of those words that sounds funny after you’ve said it a few times in a row.

Like Band-Aid.

Alone.

I’m by myself, if you can’t tell.  CK had to fly home for a friend’s father’s funeral this weekend.  It was unexpected.  And awful.  Makes you remember how short life can be.

But, I’m in the house alone for the weekend, and it feels strange.  I’ve always been a little bit of a loner.  Not in a weird, isolated way, I’ve just always kind of liked being alone.  It’s probably why I spent most of my 20s outside of a committed relationship.  I was just never motivated by loneliness to try to find someone to be with.  I was never lonely.  Even when I started dating CK, we were so far apart, geographically, that we only saw each other about once a month.  So, I worked all week, did all my chore nonsense, talked to him on the phone, went out with friends, visited my family.  I was busy.  And, as much as I enjoyed a rockin’ happy hour with Meghan, I always welcomed a Friday night in.  Just getting caught up on things, checking / writing email, drinking some wine…general downtime.

But now…working from home, being in a city where I only know CK’s friends - and, great as they are, they’re not my friends, living in a house that’s his, being away from friends…family.  It’s different.  A Friday night in by myself isn’t nearly as appealing as it was six months ago.

But, on the flipside, I have free reign over all decorating decisions for the next 36 hours…