Risky Business

When my flatmates return from their excursion to the mid-Atlantic, I know I'm likely to jump up from wherever I'm sitting and envelop them in hugs. It's going to be a bizarre week, as I'll be fully entrenched in Save for NY mode (i.e. I'm not likely to have a life so I can try to have too much of one), running (I've resumed taking on the world outdoors over the last several days. I still prefer indoors and treadmills, but a change of pace - er, view - can be nice. And I'm finally enjoying the endorphin rush!).

And I'm going to be busy thinking (and likely writing to myself) about How Much Fun That Weekend Will Be.

Which means it's probably a good thing I'm home alone. I know my flatmates either like me enough or love me (depending on which one one is thinking of), but I'm sure they'd be ready to send me off to the city signficantly earlier than I intend to go.

It felt strange, being at my apartment by myself last night. I found it too quiet and turned the television up louder than I normally would have. I played the new album at 11 p.m., just loud enough to keep me aware but quiet enough to ensure no complaints from the flat upstairs. I left my laundry in the dryer and went to sleep because I knew no one else would need the machine and I wasn't, therefore, bound to wait for the cycle to finish. But I almost missed the possibility of hearing someone ask through the door, "Hey, is that your stuff that's been sitting in there for over an hour?"

Having lived with roommates and having lived alone, I much more enjoy co-habitation. Despite the occasional bitten-back gripes that can arise when sharing space with others (She didn't wash the pot out right away, he left the seat up, she doesn't erase her DVRed recordings quickly enough), I'll happily take them over the stircrazy sense that comes with living strictly with oneself. Even hearing the faint chuckle in a phone conversation down the hall makes me feel better. I don't strictly have to entertain myself.

I lived on my own for the first five months after returning to Burlington. They were tense - I was waiting to get a full-time job, I was still in the "recovery" phase and I was adapting to a city I knew so well as a student, but felt completely foreign to me as a professional. I didn't know anyone, I didn't know what I was doing and I had plenty of time to stew over everything as I sat in my flat.

Independence be damned. I wanted someone to make me smile.

I thought of those evenings last night, as I sat on the same, pineapple-covered couch and looked at a different-colored wall in an entirely different place. I felt better being here and knowing that my flatmates would return with stories and dispatches from their excursions.

But it was fun, thinking that I have a few days to be able to catch up on the laundry. And, if I feel so inclined, slide across the hardwood floor in socks, sunglasses and a button-down.