I'm well aware that it's more than a little stupid to rely so emotionally on work, but when I was little and in one of her few smiling moments my mother told me how important it was to love your job...
...I took it to heart.
So yesterday in that part of the evening where rush hour is a faint memory and the busses are filled only with the ghosts of hurrying people; a certain lead encumberment wafted off my beating bloody bits in post menstrual excitement and the vague sentiment that I was going to get along here just fine.
I looked through the window by the elevator, waiting for Nattalia to saunter out and take the bus home with me.
I looked through the window and saw the setting sun behind stone rooftops, I marvelled at the lack of concrete construction even in the industrial environs of my office.
I looked through the window thinking about horsebackriding trails I'd found not far from the office, and the bellydancing classes that Nattalia was trying to convince me to take with her in lieu of Naginata or Yoga classes...
I looked through the window the other way, at the already familiar sprawling skyling of the center of a massive universe and tried to pick out the right direction for "Tea and Tattered pages", the used bookstore I was determined to hunt down on the weekend.
I had plans for the weekend.
And I had the funniest feeling that cf and Mystie were somewhere in the sprawl.
Getting home, provisory bottle of wine in hand, there was a light under the door of the unused bedroom and time enough for the dawning of an idea when cf, looking very much like cf but entirely in the wrong setting, was hurtling into a typical cf hug, with Mystie close behind.
We wandered and returned to cook and drained the bottle, and at some point when the table was cluttered with tea mugs and dessert spoons and voices were almost hushed enough for the roommates to be able to sleep in between bouts of laughter...
I had the overwhelming feeling again of home. Home in the sense of the city, and also the bustle behind appartment walls.
A slowly filling addressbook, a slowly dawning design plan at work, and people at the dinner table.
Des fois, I'm not as much a loner as I like to think.
Des fois, it feels good not to come home to an empty room.
:)