Monday Night

It's 7:30 on a Monday night. Outside it's raining, cold, gray. It's October in Chicago, in other words; it's chilly in the house, but I'm perfectly comfortable. I've taken my shower, put on my warm pajamas and fluffy slippers, and fixed some leftovers for dinner. I put away yesterday's dishes, washed today's, fed and watered the kitties, and I'm currently switching between blogging, watching "Medical Incredible", and patiently explaining to Snickers that no matter what he personally believes, I do not find his habit of climbing the lamps to be even slightly endearing. He's a handful, is my Snick.

I know a lot of people would find this boring. In a couple of hours I'll go up to bed, pull the quilts and afghans up under my chin, adjust the cat so I can have at least a small piece of the mattress, and go to sleep, alone. I know a lot of people would find that lonely. So do I, when I think about it; not so much in the context of the present, but in the context of the past. If I look at NOW, if I think about today and tomorrow and everything but yesterday, it doesn't seem lonely at all. It seems...peaceful, self-contained. Suddenly my life is exactly the right size for me, not stretched all out of shape trying to accommodate someone else's habits and quirks. I feel a little bit old, set in my ways like this, but at the same time I think I'm okay with that. -I- know what I'm like on the inside; if there's nobody who wants to share that life, that's their loss, I guess. And if no one ever does...well, then, that's just how it is.

I probably don't sound as happy as I am. But honestly? I'm very peaceful. I don't know what the future holds, and I'm not shutting out any possibilities...but if things were to go on like this forever, I think I'd be okay with that.