Monday, October 31, 2005

I hear fake people

So I'm sitting here enjoying the quiet house. Kids are out glomming candy, husband is out drinking spiked cider on the neighbor's driveway. I'm all alone as I am most of the day anyway.

Why do I like it so much?

Maybe because I'm never really alone. I swear I know how that kid in the Sixth Sense felt. Only instead of seeing dead people, I hear fake people.

When you mix in family, dog and friends - gasp! real, blooded things - the stimulation reaches torture level sometimes. Yet, there are moments when I desperately need companionship. When I begin to feel subhuman because of my hermit existence.

But for the most part, I crave solitude like a drug and have to be careful not to sink into total disconnect. It's scary how easily that could happen. Just tonight child number two asked me to be alert and interactive when her friends arrived and not my usual glazed-at-the-keyboard self. How sad is that?

Bippity boppity BOO!

You're an unwashed old lady surrounded by cats and a phone that never rings!


Now that's as creepy as it gets.



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