Glorious, glorious freedom

Good morning

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Greetings from an undisclosed location somewhere in South Florida. The photo is from the balcony — there’s an ocean back there but the morning is too bright (or the iPhone camera is too low-megapixel) to show it.

I spent yesterday giddier than an orgy participant in a roomful of naked, sweaty bodies and a neverending supply of Ecstasy. Why? Because I got the keys to my freedom … literally.

While a dear friend is traveling, I’m crashing at her place. So last night — after spending the day doing nothing but daydreaming about the absolute silence and calm I was about to enjoy — I went to my favorite Italian restaurant to buy a metric assload of my favorite pasta. I accompanied it with the wine we’d started drinking Thursday night. And I texted with my favorite person.

And did not a damn thing else.

The Ultra Extra Over Extended Houseguest texted that she missed me. I don’t know why. I mean, really. I go home and lock myself in my bedroom … exactly the way I did when I was counting down to my 18th birthday when I could get the hell away from what I called the Manson Family.

I’m not sure how to spend the next 48 hours. I actually forgot a lot of stuff at home. I literally packed nothing but a bathing suit, beach towel, sunscreen, PJs, a sundress and a toothbrush.

But see, that’s the glory of not having anyone nestled up your ass. I really don’t need much. When I don’t have someone who’s financially and emotionally needy, not only do I not need my medication (which is one of the things I forgot at home), I don’t need to be out shopping both to be alone as well as to find a new toy to reward myself for another week that I haven’t inflicted physical harm on someone else or myself.

So, if nobody hears from me for the next 48 hours, just know that I’m happy. I’ve consumed said metric assload of pasta and can’t really move from the couch right now. I should have probably eaten healthily since I can’t do that at home. But if I’m gonna be bad, I’m doing it on my own terms. And damn, that feels good. …

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