No roommates. Just me and Miles jamming on a Thursday night in 5A. A glass of Riesling by my side and some Gouda is perfection. I forgot what it felt like to be home alone all night. A nice excuse to get romantic with myself. Light some candles and sandalwood incense. Sit around in my underwear or plaster my face with a papaya mask. Sing at the top of my lungs to Fiona or lay somberly on the red futon til I fall asleep, book in hand. An overflowing sack of laundry hanging on the back of my bedroom door taunts me. But that’s not very romantic is it?
I love times like this. It gives me space to stretch out, mind and body, in my tiny (tiny) haven in this restless city.
(A thought sent to me today): "Our primary relationship in life is with our selves. No one else goes through every experience in life with us. We are our one permanent companion. We are constantly looking at the world, instead of looking at ourselves, we don't often see what's magnificent about ourselves that others do. When we take the time to experience ourselves the way we would experience someone we love and admire, we become our best companion and supporter on life's journey."
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