No, this title is not a typo. For all of my almost 27 and a half years, my Polish-born Nanny (Maternal Grandmother) has asked this very question. “Are you alone home?” She’s been living in the US for almost sixty years, but her adorable accent remains. Usually I would respond that one parent was home and every once in a while even though I’m an adult she’ll ask that very same question. Alone.
As I write this very post, I’m under a blanket on my couch with Sex And The City (on E!) in the background. Alone home on Cinco De Mayo. Don’t be alarmed, this is not a “woe is me” post. When I first moved to New York and had two roommates I hated being home alone. I would think about everyone out and about and feel guilty that I was spending an evening vegging on my couch. As I get older, I’ve begun to cherish my nights alone in my apartment. I love spending an evening out or relaxing with my roommate, but there’s nothing like laughing embarrassingly loud at my new favorite show (Happy Endings is ridiculous!) or researching the new band I love or getting into bed early with my latest literary obsession. It’s not depressing and it’s not lonely. It’s fantastic. Obviously moderation is key and no one should sit home alone every night, but on this fifth day of May, here I am. Just me, myself, and I. Oh and my DVR and computer and book, of course :)
Hope everyone is enjoying their evenings!