I get up at 8:30, come upstairs, pour myself a coffee, sit at the computer reading email, responding to some, checking out my favourite websites to see what’s new on them today.

Loverboy comes in at 9:30. He’s been out doing chores, I guess. He’s going to town with his dad, he says, and since I mentioned going to town today, maybe I’d like to come with them?

“How long will you be?” I ask.
“About an hour,” he says.

I ponder. Usually when he says something will take an hour, it takes two.
I have to go to the library and the store, and that’s all. If I go with them, I’m sure to end up twiddling my thumbs for an hour after I’m done my errands.

I’m still in my nightshirt, haven’t eaten anything. I’d rather take my own vehicle in later, when I’m ready to go, than hurry now to leave. I tell him thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to hurry now, anyway.

***

I love people. I like to be with them for an hour here and there, in small doses or in small groupings. I like it when people are around, when people stop in, when a friend comes for a day or two. But when a gathering is large, I prefer to dip into it for a while and then get away, back to solitude. I am filled up with human society in a very short time. And it doesn’t matter how much I like the people we are with. I always look forward to when they leave, or when we do, because that is when I will relax again.

Loverboy is different. He will seek out people, as if being alone is wasted time.