Wish I Could Keep You Much Longer

On a lighter note, a week ago, my roommate went out of town leaving me the house all to myself. I was entirely excited in anticipation of this week. It has been everything I hoped it could be. It has been enjoyable.

On my first night alone, I came home from work, trudged up the stairs where my bathroom and bedroom are, took a good look around and opened every blind and window. I secured my laptop, plugged it into my stereo, pulled up my iTunes, clicked on an absolutely random album, and pressed play.

I’d been dying to try a new remedy which I heard could clean any tub. When you rent, any tenant knows toilets and tubs, though clean, may always appear as though you could pick up a jungle disease from using them.

A co-worker had told me a week earlier auto carburetor cleaner could scour down any tub. So with the warning to run the exhaust fan and make sure I had a proper air supply, I buckled down to the task at hand while the Immaculate Collection played. (Great album. Second half especially. I swear I hadn’t listened to it in over 10 years.) I took time to sing at the top of my lungs.

It was enjoyable.

The following night I decided I would cook for myself instead of the shameful yet honest social dining out I do almost every night. I desired a night in and a little solitude. Taking time to prepare a meal has become a daily practice since. I had forgotten I had this in me but I truly enjoy cooking.

My phone rang and although I heard it upstairs, I was caught up in the kitchen. When I finished cleaning up the last pan, I fetched my phone and saw I had a missed call and subsequent text from one of my best friends in Provo. The text: I need out of the house tonight. What are you doing?

I called her and was elated to offer my place knowing we could do nearly whatever we wanted. So we did. Oreos & milk and one movie later the laughter continued. She returned to her life and although I had planned on reading a particular book on my list of things to do this week, I was happy for the diversion.

It was enjoyable.

I arrived home the subsequent evening and intently stared at my bedroom floor. It was a battlefield and I’ve mentioned before I use the cleanliness of my room as a gauge to the busyness of my life.

I cast off my work garb and quickly rolled up my sleeves to dive into the piles. (After all, you have to maintain organized piles. Clean piles and dirty piles and piles of clothing worn just once.)

Most everything had been restored to its home and I stood sweating in my room with a huge department store bag in my hand. “What had I purchased which required a bag of this size?” Many times when the need to downsize had seized my being, I wished for a bag of this size.

Capturing the moment, I approached my closet and prayed for the strength to part with my things. My old things. My unemployed, unused, idle, and aged belongings. First the clothing. Next the shoes. The boxes which had yet to be opened since my move. Ditching anything from a computer printer or television cables to dated fashions, unutilized blankets and luggage, I filled my car trunk.

I immediately headed to the thrift store. Sitting on any item would have created unnecessary vehicle clutter and a desire to re-rumage through what charity had rightly earned.

It was enjoyable.

I spent the weekend following suit to the first few days. Laundry, culinary experiments, guitar playing, sleeping. Oh the sleep. And some holiday time off to do my soul good.

I bunkered down and read the Louis L’Amour book a guy friend had recommended in an attempt to see what guys who read, read. It was an action book for any individual wishing to escape to another time and place. Surprise, it was enjoyable.

This past week has been so pleasant. I’m excited for my roommate to get home tonight. But I cannot lie. I’ll miss the time off from my usual routine which I daresay simulates a vacation of sorts.

Mostly because it was enjoyable.

PS. Speaking of things enjoyable, I'm looking forward to the new fall series "gLee". Totally dug the pilot this week.