The house is blissfully quiet.
I am alone.
I sleep late; recovering, rejuvenating. Refreshing.
I could never live by myself. Three days of it is enough to show me that by the end of a week I'd be in my jarmies until three o'clock, eating peas straight from the saucepan and pulling clothes from the unfolded laundry pile on the rare occasions that I needed to leave the house to buy milk.
Maybe I'd just buy a housecow and become a total recluse. Stay home, raise chooks and keep bees.
Today is the day when on the other side of the city, they do this.
I don't miss it a bit.