November 27, 2010
Silence. I have the house to myself for a brief while. There is almost no greater pleasure that to sit in an empty, quiet house and do nothing. It's such a seldom occurrence that it feels sacred. No one needs me for a few minutes, no one is asking me for anything. And unlike when I leave the house on my own, I don't feel the guilty for leaving someone else to watch Jacob or that I have to hurry back to help take care of him. Most of that is in my head, my own voices telling me things that aren't true, but they stress me out nonetheless. I could just sit here and stare at the walls the entire time they're gone and that would be fine with me, pleasurable actually.
Hmm... this sounds like a late 19th century writing from a half mad housewife. That can't be good. It really is in the times of quiet when we can hear the voices that are trying to tell us something. It is rarely quiet here.
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