August 27th, 2011


Carlos made quite a dinner tonight. And dessert.

Later we watched the season finale of "Louis", a show he turned me on to. It had baby ducks in it, and was sort of about them.

Considering how much and for what stretches of late I've lived alone, it's funny (funny strange, vs. funny ha-ha) how much more like normal-life it feels to have someone else residing in the abode. It's quite something to find myself experiencing. Social animals, yeah, and companionship sure I know that's something I crave. Another human sharing the place. Sleeping here; eating here.

The ASL sign for "home" involves the edge of the mouth and the side of the head by the ear, signifying where you eat and sleep.

What shocks me so is that if this is normal life, what have I been living all the time I'm living alone?

Also, of course, ought I be supporting this notion in my head/heart/gut? Isn't living alone okay? Seems like poor old living alone could use some defense against the masses and their communal living ways.

I feel confused, but with an overlay of normal. :)

And dinner was good.