Alone in the House

Today was a good day. I was up around 8am. On to real writing work (not emails or facebook) by 8:30, and managed to forge through six or so relatively focused hours of work by 3:30. Then I went outside while the sun was still out, which I failed to do yesterday. Tonight I took myself to see Bright Starat the nearby movie theatre, the Regency on Beverly and Fairfas, which I had not been to since the first time I lived in L.A. The theatre is 79 years old, and has a leaky roof, so is perhaps not the best choice for a rainy evening, but this evening was clear and balmy, and so it was a fine choice, and several bucks cheaper than the other options.

After the movie, I decided to try the “Open Late” Benito’s taco shop across the way. I ordered the veggie burrito, because I often order that at Mexican restaurants, and so is the best standard gauge. Verdict on this particular one is that it tasted almost like a slightly better and four times large seven-layer burrito at Taco Bell. But I have feeling veggie burritos are not their forte, and someday (not soon) may try their taquitos or special tamales.

It is interesting to observe the things I do when I am alone. Paul is in Atlanta visiting a friend. My first night on my own, I relished having control over the large screen computer, and allowed myself to watch Friday Night Lights from 7pm to 2am. On Sunday, I paid for my excesses with a late start on the writing, and the task of writing in a light romantic comedy tone, with FNL characters talking in my brain. It did not come easy, and I was far from happy with the results. I did not finish my assignments or leave the house until after dark. I was walking to the Subway at almost 8pm when I realized I had been due at my sister’s house for dinner an hour and a half before. So bad writing and bad food combined to sour my spirits a little, although I did watch The Jazz Singer, a Netflix movie that had been holding up the queue for a month.

And then, today, a nice return to moderation.

But almost all of my choices, from the fish and chips shop on Friday night, to a trip to Manhattan Beach and 9 hours of TV on Saturday, to hours of writing the last couple days, are choices I would have much less likely made with Paul. I enjoy living with my husband, and I miss him when he is gone. But it is interesting to see the person that I revert to being when I am on my own for a period of time.

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