For five months, I’ve been home alone most of the time. Believe it or not, there are some upsides (which I would happily give up if Peter could be with me).
First, I don’t have to worry about leaving him alone while I run an errand. In addition, at breakfast, I get the front page of the newspaper first. I eat when and what I feel like, and sometimes I don’t have a protein, a vegetable AND a starch on my plate at dinner. Our apartment is tidier, and I do less laundry.
But now that the pandemic restrictions are lifting, and I am having some social life, I recall that when my father died decades ago, my mother hated that she came home alone after a social event and couldn’t gossip about it with him.
In the past week, I have been to two social events that I thoroughly enjoyed.
But coming home alone…not so much.