Michael is traveling for work.  Sometime around my senior year of college I realized I really wasn’t a person that did well living alone.  Now, this is not to say I dislike having alone time.  Being the oldest of four children, I used to beg my mother for some time to play when I did not have to share.  But I always knew I could go back and play with my siblings, or someone.  When I went off to camp I shared a cabin with 7 other girls, and there was always someone to play with.  When I moved to college I had room mates.

That is, until my senior year, when I got a single.  Michael, who I had been dating for a year and a half at the time, was away at sea, and I for various reasons was not as proximal to my friends as I was used to. (Is proximal a word?  If not, I’m pulling a Shakespeare).  I loved being able to set up my room however I wanted for about a week and a half.  Then I kinda just fell apart.  Without a room-mate there really wasn’t anyone to say “maybe you should go to bed” or “maybe you should eat.”  There was no social pressure to shower regularly.  I went to classes because I was a rule follower and because there was social pressure to go to class, but for a semester I was terribly lonely.  It was awful, and it was about then that I realized I really wasn’t happy living alone.  It also took a while for me to develop coping mechanisms to be able to live alone, which involved numerous alarms to remind me to eat, sleep and wake up.

I was so happy when Michael, and many of my other friends the grade below me, finally came back from abroad.  My second semester went much better, especially because Michael practically lived in my room more than his.

Which basically means that when Michael travels, I wander around the apartment looking rather lost.  It helped before we moved that I had a room mate that would basically take me under her wing while he was gone, but now I just sit home alone, and well, it’s kinda sad.  Normally the second or third day I’ll remember how to live alone, but there’s always an adjustment period.

I also have been known to just eat raw veggies and fruit and yogurt and corn while he is gone.  Which is kinda embarrassing.  But really, I don’t even want to eat my own cooking.

On a brighter note: I drove to the post office and back in the Manual, and only stalled once, in the parking lot, which practically doesn’t even count.  Didn’t stall out or roll back on any of the hills.  And the other day?  I drove across town for an errand by myself.  Be impressed.  This is hard work, when you learned to drive an automatic.

EDIT:  Just to clarify.  I first learned to drive an automatic.  Now I can drive an automatic AND a manual.