When I'm running around like a madwoman trying to complete my story list by deadline, spend some time with friends or visit with Mom and Dad at the lake, the only thing I want is a moment to myself to just breathe. I'm constantly moving at a frantic pace trying to accomplish all the menial things I feel need to get done (so I can cross them off my ever-expanding to-do list) and while doing so, all I can dream about is a day with no worries or responsibilities, when I can just relax and do absolutely nothing.
Well there I was this morning with nothing to do but sit on the couch with a book and/or my tv and DVD remotes, completely, totally, utterly alone...and I hated it. I had nothing to do.
Naturally it took me only a few minutes to do the only thing I could think of at a time like this: come into the office. Not because I feel a pressing need to get any writing done; I just wanted to get out of the house. It's not even noon on a Sunday and I'm sitting at my desk in the newsroom listening to the hum of the prepress machines upstairs. The newsroom is empty, except for myself, and I have to admit I like it. I'm just as alone here as I would be in my apartment but it doesn't feel quite as empty here.
I'll give myself 'til I finish this cup of coffee then perhaps I'll venture home, pull a few DVDs from my collection, and settle in for an afternoon of blissful nothingness. Until I get bored with being alone, of course. Then maybe I'll be back.
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