I rarely like to be alone during daylight hours. When I am, the association is illness or melancholy, but even in melancholy, I generally seek company. That’s not to say I’m not a some what solitary person. Once the sun begins to slide down the blue, it’s usually me who’s ready for a book and a bath, clean sheets and a soft nightgown. To be alone at night is a comfort, a relief. To be alone during the day is depressing, frustrating—like a being too hot or having a slight headache for hours—it wears on you.
Despite all this, I love giving dinner parties—but I have to know those nights are coming. And without a doubt, the next night I keep the existance of a nun or a cat, regaining my strength.
My favorite thing? Brunch. I love that brunch is a beginning—after brunch, some mimosas and baked eggs, coffee to pep you and potatoes to sink you, there’s still an entire day to share before the sun goes down.