waking solo (han's cousin)

This morning, after nigh on two weeks of continuous company, I finally woke up alone in my own apartment. And let me tell you, it was heavenly!

If you'll recall, I live in a railroad apartment, with the bathroom just off the kitchen. So while Brian was sleeping in my living room, any time he had to use the bathroom, he had to walk through my room (and scare the pants off of me). One night, on his way through, I shot up in bed and shouted at him, "OH MY GOD! I FORGOT YOU WERE HERE!"

I'm a very light sleeper -- just ask the doorslammers next door. So sharing my house (or my bed) takes a lot of adjusting for me, especially if whoever I'm sharing with isn't on my same sleep schedule. Sure, I'm super-fond of having a warm body to snuggle up to. And of course I like waking up to a kiss. And I like the intimacy of just sharing a bed -- it reminds me of having sleepovers as a kid, just talking and talking until we couldn't keep our eyes open any longer.

But there's something about the serenity of an empty bed, an empty house (hell, an empty building) that makes me feel so much more empowered. When I wake up alone, the day is mine. I don't have to share it with anyone (until, of course, I walk out the front door). I don't have to coordinate showering or coffee-making or commuting. There's an independence to it that truly makes me feel like I own my life.

And mostly, I like that nobody scares the crap out of me before I wake up. Nothing makes me grouchier than waking up before I have to. And being such a light sleeper... well, let's put it this way: you have to be pretty worthwhile for me to share my house or bed with you.

That's all I'm saying.