You would think that having the house to myself, I would happily surf the web, poke around email, write, that kind of thing. But no, for some unknown reason, I can't settle to anything because there's nobody else here.
That so reminds me of my parents. They have different interests, different hobbies. We are, as a family, not much given to public display of affection. But as they're, say, at the summer residence, I see Mom every few minutes cast a look to where Dad is puttering away with whatever interminable project he always has at hand, and every now and then Dad looks to make sure Mom is not completely lost in the jungle of dandelions.
There is a true warmth of domesticity palpable in the air, when the members of the household can comfortably do each their own task, sharing the common atmosphere of avocation -- even if in different things.
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There is a true warmth of domesticity palpable in the air, when the members of the household can comfortably do each their own task, sharing the common atmosphere of avocation -- even if in different things.
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As long as I don't need to live with them. :-}