A Companion Unobtrusive

I confess I've recently engaged in some of the seemingly sad activities of a spinster. While some sigh and their inner monologues say, "poor thing," I really dig doing things alone and am not weirded out by it. Mind you, it's not my normal state, but I do appreciate the quiet comfort of a meal alone or watching a chick flick at home enjoying my own company. Last night was no different. I went to the mall to take advantage of the beloved Gap bra sale (I now own 3 new-fangled silky support systems), use my free Aveda Purefume Spirit gift card (so today I smell of jasmine and rose and sandalwood - yum - for free), and buy an unexpected and totally darling Gidget-esque spotted headband for the Bahamas (to be glam when the hair gets unruly). I then trekked home, watched "The Age of Innocence" (such torment! such bliss!), and polished off chips and salsa, all with the rain serenading outside. In my opinion, it was a near perfect evening. Tonight, I might just do the same freaking thing. My bod's become a real fan of not imbibing every weekend evening and waking early to run on Saturday morning - and now that the N shows new Degrassi episodes on Friday nights, there's more than good reason to hunker down at home. It's like I'm dating myself and good lord, am I treating that bitch right.

Tonight, I might even go see "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Deux" by myself. Yes, I have friends who would go see it with me, but I don't feel like conversing and would prefer to indulge in the gooey chickness of it all solo. Fuck, I might even get a lovely Lebanese dinner on the way to the movie. Or, I could always fore go the flick and take a long run in the dreary weather. All of it sounds awesome and while, just a few months ago, so much alone time would've made me all conflicted and restless, I am now digging it profoundly. Does this mean I am getting old? Sure. Does it mean I'm pretty removed from Boston since I decided to move? Perhaps. Does it just mean I'm tired of talking for once? Possibly (who knew it could happen?). Fear not, though, Saturday night I've much debauchery planned, including cramming myself in my small jeans and very high shoes. I might even paint up my face like Kenny Rogers used to warn about.

So, that's my ditty about enjoying your own freaking company. hurrah!