One can never be too rich or thin.
Or have too much space.
Home alone! Hurrah hurraaahh! Strike up the celestial band! Drop the balloons from on high! Dim the lights and strike matches for the candles!!
Home alone! – operative word alone! No human occupants in presence, sight or sound! This, my friends, is the stuff of which dreams* are made!
*and more
My current abode’s terrific on many counts, including design with varying levels, vaulted ceilings and plentiful windows that create an airy cathedral-like* spaciousness.
*compared to the average home
Presently I’ve one roommate, the house owner. That’s about to change. A second roommate (with small dog) is poised to move in.
We’ve not met so this is no commentary on her. A third body in the house shifts the dynamic across the board on every level (speaking of levels …).
Reckon that those who know me if asked to identify my top five needs would put “space” on that list. Those who don’t can’t rightfully claim to know me!
I need it in doses and amounts extraordinary and surpassing the norm.
There’s nuthin’ quite like having the entire house to yourself. I fundamentally need it. The house size is moot. That is to write, be it a bungalow or a multilevel mansion with five bedrooms, five bathrooms and four wings,* I still need the house emptied of human occupants regularly.
*improbable future residence
Completely emptied. As in I in the south wing and another in the north wing half a mile down the hallways is still too close for comfort. Empty-house time is invaluable and necessary for my basic functioning. Not quite as essential as air for the lungs but purrrrty damn close!
Be assured that my current abode, while large, is nowhere near the size and scale of the home shared by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. It works, however, because I get ample empty-house time.
The holistic dynamic here works. When we’re both here, it works. When he’s gone, it works. When I’m gone, it works for him, I sense
There’s a healthy balance (founded partly in compatibility) and ebb and flow between people time to empty-house that satisfies and restoreth (my soul).
That’s certain to be changed with the arrival of a third party. My best and possibly only hope (reminder: a word used with extreme caution at this blog) is that she works as much as I’m told.
Only if that’s the case AND my current roommate’s stretches of absences continue will I rest easy.
Or I won’t.
Space. Or screwed. Which will it be? Once again only time will tell.
