I am alone. The Admiral and the Princesses are on their annual sojourn to the far north to visit the Admiral’s folk, and I did not go. I do not do alone well, nor do I do well alone. There is a difference. 

When left to my own devices, I am lost, and if left with the check book, I am dangerous.

I do not realize how much I rely on routine until those that make up the routine are gone. All the things we do together as a family don't happen, because we aren't together. It is as if my life is on hold. I don't do “alone” well.

I did not make this trip for several reasons. Foremost is that I was not invited. I was not invited because the Admiral and Princesses knew I would not accept.  

They go for too long, this time for three weeks. What can you do for three weeks in the middle of the Yukon Territory that you cannot do in three days? 

“Wow, look at that big lake!”

“Isn’t that the same one we saw yesterday?”

“Yes, but isn’t it beautiful.”

“Kind of looks like the bay back home?”

“Yes, but this is Canada.”

“I think that’s my point.”

My excuse for not going is that I have to work. The Admiral knows I can work there as well as here, but it plays better than lying in the middle of the floor of the airport, kicking my feet, and screaming, “I don’t want to go! You can’t make me go!” I would do it too.

“Can’t I just stay home and be happy?”

“Yes dear, you can, but you won’t be.” She knows. I don’t do “alone” well.

Every year, I look forward to their leaving. I have the house to myself. It is quiet. If I want to watch ESPN sitting in my underwear, I will. I can sleep as long as I like, eat what I want, watch as much TV and as many movies as I desire, and work without interruption. 

Sounds good, doesn’t it? It is for the first two or three hours, but after that, the truth sets in. I miss the noise. I need diversions to work. I don’t like sitting around in my underwear. I don’t sleep late…ever. I hate to cook. I get bored with TV after twelve hours.  I don’t do “alone” well.

As I write this, I am looking around for things to distract me, and find nothing.  I’ve already been to the store…twice. The first trip was for more frozen dinners, the last for dog food. I have visited friends until they say, “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow,” as they are walking toward the door.

I’ve harvested and worked in the garden. I’m sick of TV, and any of the six books I am reading hold my interest only as long as it takes for me to realize I am alone.  

It is sad when cleaning the house and doing the laundry are adventures. I don't fill the dirty clothes hamper in a week, so laundry has to wait.

I live in four rooms, all down stairs, and don't clutter much. I use one plate, one fork, knife, and drinking glass all of which require about two minutes to wash.

I am looking forward to collecting the trash and getting it to the street. I am alone, and I do not do it well. 

I think I’ll go pick through my frozen dinners and eat early tonight, maybe twice. What’s on TV? Sad, but I really do not do “alone” well.

David Wilson Atwood is a local writer whose human-interest columns offer a unique perspective. He may be contacted, at: www.starchasers.us, or david@starchasers.us