the cheese stands alone

On Sunday I was having breakfast with my brother and his fiance after church, and M sort of bemoaned having had to spend Friday night watching movies by herself because my brother went out with his friends. It was weird to me because I did the same thing that night, except all day at work I'd been looking forward to staying home and watching movies by myself. My mom is ziplining through Central America, so I had the house to myself, I had cool new popcorn that pops in its own bowl, champagne, and Something Borrowed. (Don't judge me for my romcom addiction. I ended up changing my mind and watching Eclipse instead, but that's not the point.) And then that got me thinking about all the other things I do by myself that just feel natural to me, like riding my bike at the beach, shopping, sitting outside in the sun at work and wondering why someone would ask why I'm just sitting there. Can't a person just sit somewhere by themselves and think? And what if I've been doing things, living life, by myself for so long that if someone came along and wanted to share it with me, I didn't want to? Am I going to be that single aunt who wears weird clothes and has an old beat up car and gives the kids ice cream for dinner? Actually, Nanny Silvia would never do that ice cream bit. But I would let Boots watch Up as many times as he wanted. Oh, here we are. I'm the cow and Boots is little critter. Too bad there's no "Just Me and My Aunt" book.