On Girl Time

I fancy myself a writer and all that that implies. Translation: I have an excuse to be a homebody and pretend it's in the name of writing. I enjoy solitude...in fact I crave it. I use it to create, meditate, and watch TV I don't want anyone to know about.

My alone time is amazing and precious. Most of the time.

But then last weekend happened. A combination of stress (finishing ATD), lack of sleep, and life piled up and left me lonely and sad.

Feelings I don't do well.


Naturally, I turned to friends. And booze.

My friend Lacey moved in for a few days. It was everything girly it should have been. We ate white cheddar popcorn for dinner, drank Pabst, and took selfies while listening to Tupac radio on Pandora.

We talked about boys, life, and bitches we don't like. We stayed up late watching Real Housewives, drank beer on the patio in front of a fire, and had coffee together at four in the morning.

The best part about it, though, is that while I was at work? That bitch did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and then made cupcakes.

She was a good wife for a hot minute. And then she decided her life (and cats) probably needed some attention--not to mention we were out of beer--so she packed up her stuff and went home.

I miss her fiercely. I miss the talks, the laughter, and that she walked Hank so I don't have to. Mostly, I miss not having to do my own dishes.


So I'm back to solitude, this time with an immense feeling of gratitude for great friends, as well as a new-found love for the Tupac station on Pandora. As much as I like to get in my head and create characters and dialogue and stories, the reality is that nothing takes the place of real, human interaction (I'm looking at you, Facebook!). And dancing around the house to old school is not nearly as fun when you're by yourself.

Someone remind me of that next month. remind me that I am not a robot and actually do need human interaction, because once I finally wrap up ATD and start in on the next book, I have a feeling I just might forget.