Home Alone

I really thought I'd had enough alone time in my nerdy somewhat socially awkward childhood.  As an only child with divorced parents, I had to become good at entertaining myself and being alone. And this was true...  until I became poly.  


As the wife of two husbands, mom to two cats, step-mom to two dogs and a cat, and personal trainer to the stars (not exactly but my clients are pretty fabulous), I am rarely alone.  I have learned in the last couple of years that I really DO need my alone time.  It's important.  Really important.  The difference between sane and crazy important. 


It's tough to get.  Both husbands work at home so unless there's a commitment that takes them away from the home and doesn't include me, I am not alone.  And for reasons I can't really explain, alone time cannot happen unless I am truly alone.  Partner may not be in the home.  Really, it's preferable if partner is in an adjacent zip code (or farther).  I have to wonder how much square footage I would need to be in the house with another person but feel alone.  Would 5,000 square feet cut it?  10,000?  Couldn't tell you.  


Both husbands have graciously offered to leave the home to give me alone time.  I haven't figured out how to say yes without feeling terribly guilty.  Perhaps it's because I imagine one (or both) of them wandering grocery store aisles aimlessly and sadly caressing discount cans of soup.  I'm not sure I could truly enjoy my alone time (which I tend to spend in frivolous ways - I am not solving the world's problems.  I am trying to figure out how Kim Kardashian gets those cool smoky eyes) knowing one of them is intentionally staying away and checking the time to find out when they are allowed to come back.  That is sadder than any movie where a dog is carted off to a farm where "he can run and play."   


Edward left this morning to visit his father before meeting me on Thursday to visit my family.  So, I have an actual 4 days to myself.  One of the strange things I discovered is that when left to my own devices, I do things I do not generally do.  Like cook.  I tried a new recipe today.  I almost never cook for myself.  My interest in cooking is extremely limited and I'm usually only interested in healthy recipes as Edward has pretty well mastered recipes that would make Paula Deen blush.  I also made myself a dirty martini.  In a shaker.  With ice and everything.  I never do that either.  


I also allow myself to indulge my OCD'ness a bit more.  This occurs for two reasons.  1) I don't have to explain it and that is nice.  I really cannot explain why I want to wipe down the washer and dryer after the laundry is done but the fact you ask reminds me that it's really probably kind of crazy and unnecessary BUT I WANT TO DO IT ANYWAY (and then I feel defensive about it even though it's a perfectly acceptable question).  2) No one will mess it up.  Except me.  And I suppose I could get mad at myself but I generally don't.  I do get annoyed with other people getting their grimy fingerprints all over my OCD.  Generally, it's safer to stay off that road.  And because of that, I get slightly gleeful at being able to do it without irritating anybody.  It's like OCD Home Alone Christmas.  Minus Macaulay Culkin or Creepy Santa.  Win.