There are some definite benefits to living alone. Oh, forget about the house being in foreclosure, the IRS's idle threats, the lack of money, my inability to sell my house or find another place to live that I can afford; or the worldly possessions I'm shoveling out of here faster than they came in . . . I can't do anything about any of that. So I dance in the dark.
Last night I had to reprogram my Ipod and after a lot of messing around, I got it going again. And shortly after 12:00 I found myself dancing all by myself to a rousing blasting version of Opus 17 (Don't You Worry About Me) by the Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Okay, so you know I must be pretty old to enjoy that song, but I surely did. That is not something that would have happened BEFORE. I might have disturbed someone.
I can eat salad for supper every single night. . . or Fritos and salsa. . . or Dove chocolate and pecan ice cream. I can paint at 5:00 in the morning. I can have a shower-optional day and lounge on my deck and read for five straight hours without anyone making me do anything at all. I can wander over to the neighbors' house and visit for as long as they let me. I can go out for a drink after work (if only someone would ask me). I can leave here whenever I want to and come home whenever I want to and I don't have to check in or out with anyone.
"I'll be strong, I'll try to carry on. . . so don't you worry 'bout me."
.jpg)
